


It Felt Like A Kiss

by blueolympus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - High School, Big Brother Dean, Bisexual Dean, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Charlie Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Ships It, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Drunk John Winchester, High School Student Castiel, High School Student Charlie, High School Student Dean, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Protective Dean Winchester, Sexual Abuse, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueolympus/pseuds/blueolympus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: child abuse, sexual abuse, anxiety and depression triggers<br/>"Protect Sam, protect Sam! That's all you ever think, Dean," Charlie gasped desperately as she grasped at his arm.<br/>"And what am I supposed to do, Charlie? He's a little kid!" Dean growled in response as he shook her off of him.<br/>Charlie stared up at him with wavering, hazel eyes, "but what about you Dean? Who will take care of you?" She paused for a second, looking into her best friend's green eyes searchingly. "What about Castiel? What about me? We need you too, Dean?"<br/>"How many times do I have to say I'm fine?" Dean shouted, exasperated. He thought -- not for the first time-- of what would become of Sammy and his friends if something were to happen to him. Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he held them back. His voice cracked a little, "Even if I have to sacrifice myself, you'll all make it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dre and John](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dre+and+John).



> This is my first destiel fic and my first fic posted to AO3 so please bear with me on any hiccups I may have. This fic is my exploration of the different forms of child abuse and therefore may be triggering in many ways. That being said I hope you enjoy the story, I hope it moves you

Rain pounded hard against the sides of the red-brick apartment building on Aldrich Street. A 17-year-old Dean Winchester pulled the collar of his oversized leather jacket up against the rain as he ushered his younger brother inside. The lobby of the ancient building was decrepit, but warm and dry. Sam shook his head like a dog and droplets of water flew from his shaggy hair.  
Dean chuckled to himself, wiped the water from his eyes, and ruffled his younger brother’s wild hair earning a disgruntled look, “It’s looking like we’re gonna have to cut your hair real soon there, Sammy.”

The younger boy wriggled out of Dean’s grasp, “I don’t want a buzz cut!” he protested.

Dean rolled his eyes and gave a nod to the man at the desk, whom he knew was hiding a copy of Busty Asian Beauties behind his newspaper. The man grunted in reply and the Winchester boys made their way into the elevator and hit the button for the 6th floor.

The farther the elevator went, the less Sammy squirmed. The two boys were as silent and somber as statues by the time the elevator dinged on their floor. Dean walked out first, his arm half in front of Sam in a protective stance, more out of habit than anything else.

Sam’s hazel eyes were cast down towards the floor but he raised them a moment, “Dean, I’m almost 13. . . I can--”

“No, Sam!” Dean said with much more venom than he meant to. He turned around and crouched to his younger brother’s level. “No.” He said, gentler this time. He wiped a startled tear from Sam’s eye and pulled him to his chest, rubbing his back. “He can do whatever he wants to me and I’ll be fine. But, Sammy if he hurt you -- if I let anything happen to you. . . I would die.”

Sam sniffled into his brother’s chest and wrapped his frail arms around him tightly. “But it hurts me inside to see him do that to you,” the boy replied sadly.

Dean pulled back and looked into the red, puffy eyes of his brother, “I know, Bud, I wish I could make all of the pain go away.”  
The two separated and slowly made their way to number apartment 613. Dean’s hand was steady when he put the key in the lock even though his insides felt as though they were turning to liquid. He smiled down at Sammy as he swung open the door. The brothers both breathed a sigh of relief. They had beaten dad home.

Sam immediately perked back up, “What’s for dinner?” he asked, dancing excitedly around Dean’s legs.

Dean strode past him and looked in the fridge. “Looks like hot dogs and macaroni,” he said pulling the hotdog package out and waving it in his brother’s face.

Sam crinkled up his nose and stuck out his tongue. “Again?” He whined.

Dean opened his mouth to reply when the house phone began to ring. He picked the phone up off the counter and answered it, “Hello.”  
“Dean?” asked his father in a gruff voice.  
“Yes, Sir.” Said Dean, straightening as if John were there to see him.  
“I was just calling to say I’ll be home late. Get the house clean.”  
“Yes, Sir.” Dean answered, again.  
“And Dean?” John said, almost as an afterthought.  
“Yes, Sir?”  
“Try not to fuck anything up.”  
Dean had to keep from wincing, he nodded, “Yes, Sir.”  
John hung up.

Dean looked down at Sam, who was waiting patiently for another bland and small meal. He pulled his worn wallet from his pocket and flipped through the bills -- tips from his job bagging groceries at the store. Forty dollars, a couple days of work, but he had already put money in their school lunch accounts, and restocked the medicine cabinet. He was saving up for an old car, but looking down at the skinny face of his pale, little brother Dean caved. “Ah, what the hell, why don’t we order a pizza, Sammy?”

Sam’s sunken eyes widened in child-like delight, “Do you mean it?” He enthused.  
“Of course, buddy, anything for you.” Dean ruffled Sammy’s hair once more and picked the phone back up to order a large pizza with extra cheese.

Hours later, John Winchester stumbled drunkenly into 613. Looking around blearily, he saw that the apartment was nearly spotless. Entirely immaculate until his eyes narrowed on his two sons, asleep on the couch. Dean was sprawled out feet propped on the coffee table with his head lulled to one side. Sam lay curled in a ball at Dean’s side. A pizza box lay open on the coffee table and a black and white Dracula movie blared on the television.  
“DEAN HENRY WINCHESTER” John roared, slamming the door behind him in his fury.

Both boys immediately jumped up and Dean shoved Sam down the hall, turning his back on his father for only a second. A mistake.  
John snatched Dean up by the scruff of the neck and threw him back in the living room. Dean heard Sam shriek in terror and shouted for him to go. In his warbling vision he could see the door to Sam’s room slam shut and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I told you not to fuck up!” John bellowed as he kicked Dean over and over in the gut. “First you turn this place into a pig sty and then you you family money buy useless shit?”

“It was my money,” Dean protested weakly, as if his father would listen to reason.

“Your money?” John mocked and jammed his foot into Dean’s skull causing his vision to go dark and fuzzy at the edges. “You have nothing. You are nothing.” John hissed as he straddled Dean, pinning him to the floor.  
He slammed the heel of his palm against Dean’s chest. “Huh, boy? What are you?”

Dean, coughing and disoriented and strangling from his father’s weight on his chest did not answer.

“How about we remind our little Dean what he his?” John sneered, “a little bitch.” He jerked Dean’s shoulders up and slammed his head hard back into the floor. Dean struggled weakly away from him.  
Dean closed his eyes and suppressed his tears as his father flipped him around and pressed his face into the rough carpet. This was it. His one secret distress not even Sam knew. The thing that may actually kill him inside. John undid his belt.  
“You never answered me, boy, what are you?”John yanked roughly at Dean’s clothes. Dean still didn’t answer.  
John got even angrier. “WHAT. ARE. YOU?”

Dean could feel his chest shattering to pieces and his mind racing with self-deprecating thoughts and anger. He was dirty. Filthy. Broken. No one could know. “Your bitch.” he mumbled in a broken voice before he felt like his insides were being ripped apart. White hot pain. Dean bit his lip and held back the screams

******************************

The house was empty when Castiel Novak got home. No surprise. It always was. He peeled off  his tan trench coat and threw it on the nearest chair, knowing he would hear about it from Ellen later.

“Ellen? Are you here?” He called out into the immaculate kitchen. The entire house -- some would call it a mansion -- was bedecked in the nicest, newest furniture and appliances money could buy. It looked and felt like a home in a magazine. Like no one lived there at all.

Ellen gave no answer and Castiel followed his rumbling stomach to the refrigerator. It was filled to the brim with food but he was only focused on one thing. A blue tupperware container sat off to the side with a bright pink sticky note attached to it.

_Cas,_

_pot roast for dinner. I went home to see Jo after her first day of high school. I’ll see you tomorrow._

_-Ellen_

He shoved the entire container in the microwave and ate it alone in the kitchen. When he had finished he threw his dishes in the sink and walked back to his room. The silence in the massive home was deafening. He stopped by the room his mother had slept in before she mother died. His dad had moved her to a different part of the house. Cas slipped into the room on tiptoes as if his mother still slept in there.

He curled into the bed where she took her final breath and imagined he could still smell her strawberry scented shampoo. “I miss you, Mom” he muttered quietly as he nuzzled into her pillows. “There’s no home here without you.”  He slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

 **A Note from Blue** :Sorry this chapter is so short. I will hopefully post more tomorrow. Poor Dean. Hopefully he gets a happier ending than this. I’m sure he will :) Keep on reading and drop a review to find out. I love you all.


	2. The Second Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of the second day of school as told by Dean, Castiel, and Charlie.

Getting up for school was much harder for Dean the second day than it had been the first. His entire body ached as he moved it and he felt as though even his bruises had bruises. Dean rolled slowly out of bed and clawed his way to the bathroom where he found Sam waiting for him. Dean struggled to stand up straight, to show that he was fine after all. Sam just looked at him with round, hazel eyes, the redness around them made them all the greener.

“I ran you a bath,” said Sam stiffly, gesturing behind him to the steaming tub. Dean had scrubbed his bruised and aching skin at least three times after his father had passed out drunk the night before, but he welcomed the soothing kiss of the hot water.

“Thanks, Sammy,” said Dean and he ruffled Sam’s hair affectionately. _I would do this every night if it means Sam stays safe_ , he thought to himself. Sam helped Dean out of his overshirt and put it over his arm. He threw his small arms around his older brother and Dean ignored the pain in his ribs as he hugged him back. “I love you, Sam” Dean said seriously.

Sam pulled away and looked up into Dean’s face. His eyes roamed his brother’s exposed arms and the scrapes and bruises thereon. “Get in the bath and I’ll get you the first aid kit, some clothes, and a towel.” He smiled, if only for Dean’s sake and turned and fled from the room, trying to hold back tears.

Dean smiled sadly and shed the rest of his clothing. He eased himself, gingerly, into the bathtub both blessing and cursing the hot water for the sting. He lay in there for a moment, contemplating what it would be to soak his pains away all day. He heard Sam open the door and close it, leaving his supplies on the counter. Dean grabbed a rag and set to scrubbing off yet another layer of his skin. It was impossible not to feel dirty after John did _that_ to him and often times he couldn’t help but wonder if he was just dirty to begin with.

No amount of scrubbing could ever make him clean again after what he had been through, though he could damned well try. The scratching of the rag against his bruises and cuts was brutal, but he kept scrubbing until his skin was pink and even more raw than before. When he was mostly satisfied he carefully rose from the bath and stepped out onto the cold, tile floor. The towel on the counter was still warm -- Sam must have pulled it straight from the dryer -- and Dean relished in it’s sweet warmth across his skin. No longer dripping, he pulled on his ratty boxers and worn, dark wash jeans and examined himself in the foggy mirror. His entire chest was blossomed into a deep violet and crimson bruise. Behind the darker bruises lining his chest and arms were more bruises, these ones green and yellow, and pink scars on his chest and back. Dean thought, not for the first time, that his skin looked like a watercolor painted by a blind man.

Dean called for Sam to help him with his back. The young boy was already incredibly skilled with first aid. He dabbed the places where  John’s nails had racked down Dean’s back not, at least so Dean hoped, understanding exactly where they had come from. Dean tried to keep from remembering the night before. The beatings he could handle. They had been coming since his mother had passed on, The rest of it? Dean preferred to pretend it didn’t happen and never speak a word of it to anyone.

Sam patched up the scrapes and helped Dean into his tank top and plaid button down. They went together into the kitchen where Sam had already made Dean’s coffee and toast. Dean rose his eyebrows when he saw a second mug sitting on the counter. “Can’t I pleeaase have my own mug, Dean?” Sam begged.

“It’ll stunt your growth, Sammy, you don’t wanna be shorter than me your whole life, do ya?” Dean asked, staring down into Sam’s puppy dog eyes. “Fine, but only half a cup!”

Sam smiled victoriously and downed half of the coffee, Dean finished the other half when he was done with his own. He glanced down at his watch, “Come on, don’t wanna be late on the second day!” They left the apartment with John still snoring in his bedroom.

It was still raining when they left the apartment, but they kept mostly dry under their small umbrella. Dean, with years of experience, was doing his best to walk without seeming too injured and it was relatively easy to fall into a natural step. He hoped Sam would never find it that simple to walk when injured. He dropped Sam off at the middle school with a promise to pick him up with the umbrella after and made his way down the street to the high school.

Charlie was waiting for Dean inside the school when he got there. Her wavy copper hair was in a wet tangle around her head as though she hadn’t had time to comb or dry it after she showered. Dean straightened when he saw her and made a point of moving like a healthy young person rather than a broken old man.

“Hey, Dean-o!” said Charlie cheerily as she fell into step beside him.

“Charlie,” he acknowledged her gruffly though he sent her a grin sideways. They entered the library to wait out the bell as they had every other day for the past two years of high school. They sat in the bay window in the back, near the reference books. The day before Charlie has barked some underclassmen out of that spot, claiming it to be reserved.

“Isn’t the weather gorgeous outside on this wonderful second day of Junior year?” She enthused. Dean was unable to tell if she was being sarcastic or not as she gestured animatedly out of the window.

“It can rain all it wants when I have a car and can drive Sam and me to school,” Dean told her, dreaming of the gorgeous, black, four-door, 1967 Chevrolet Impala that Bobby Singer was going to sell him. The old man was probably being too nice to Dean, selling the car to him for a thousand bucks and letting him come to his yard fix it up in the meantime. It wasn’t even his car yet but she was already his baby.

“Hello? Hello? Earth to Dean?” Charlie waved her hand in front of his face. “Are we fantasizing about car sex again?”

Dean playfully pushed her arms away and made a face. “No! Anyway, what were you saying?”

Charlie rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “I was saying I can drive you and Sam, if you want.”

“In your prius?” Dean laughed.

“Celeste is gas efficient and adorable, thank you,” said Charlie primly, folding her hands in her lap.

Dean laughed again and shook his head. “I’m not really sure my dad will be okay with that, y’know. . .” he trailed off, awkwardly scratching behind his neck.

“Ah yes.” said Charlie, seriously. “John Winchester is allergic to gays.” She smiled again, and poked Dean in the chest, “what about you then?”

Dean tried not to wince when she poked him straight in a bruise and gave her an uncomfortable smile, “Trust me, you did not want to be there when I tried to have that conversation.”  

Charlie smiled sympathetically and reached over to squeeze his hand. Just then the bell rand and Charlie perked back up, “What is your first class again?”

“Engineering with Mr. Turner,” Dean replied, wincing when his backpack slammed against his bruised ribs when he stood. Charlie didn’t seem to notice.

She smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and gave him a gentle side hug, “See you in english then!” And with a whirl of ginger hair and deathly hallows earrings she was gone.

Dean walked to his class much slower than Charlie, if nothing but for the sake of his aching back. He was not looking forward to the hard seats he’d have to be on all day. Mr. Turner, the engineering teacher, was waiting at the door with numbered note cards, “sit at the seat you’re assigned,” he said gruffly, handing Dean a card with the number 7 across the front. Dean nodded silently and went to his seat, praying his partner wasn’t horrible.

The room was full but for the seat next to Dean when, finally, a boy with tousled black hair, slight stubble across his chin, and bright, piercingly blue eyes. He wore a tan trench coat that was a bit beyond his years. Dean was unsure what he was expecting under the coat, but his jaw dropped slightly when the boy took it off to reveal a blue sports jacket that was on top of a lighter blue sweater vest and white button down. _Wearing enough layers?_ Dean thought to himself.

Mr. fifteen-layers turned to Dean and extended his hand, “Castiel Novak,” he said pleasantly.

“Dean Winchester,” replied Dean, shaking Castiel’s hand, trying to smile over the pain at moving his body. “Nice to meet you.”

As Mr. Turner began to explain kinematic functions that Dean had learned in physics the previous year he took to studying his new partner instead. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Castiel’s frame was as wonderful without the jacket as it appeared in it.. The deep blue of the jacket made his eyes pop and played nicely off of the pressed, gray jeans. His designer, preppy clothes were the exact opposite of anything Dean would ever chose to wear, yet it seemed so attractive to him and the nice clothing against the disheveled hair and stubble and a haunting look in the sky blue eyes gave an air of mystery that Dean would have loved to delve into.

Dean shook his head to clear it and cursed himself for the thoughts he was having. That kind of thing could get him into boundless trouble. Castiel turned to him and gave him a little grin, “It sounds like it’s going to be a great year!” Dean sighed. Man, was he really in for it this year.

 

***

 

Castiel couldn’t quite place it, but his new partner Dean seemed like he was really uncomfortable. Castiel seemed to have that effect on people, maybe that was why it was his second day at the new school and the only person that had spoken to him was Dean Winchester and he was assigned to speak him. He knew he should be listening to Mr. Turner, but Castiel spent the entire class daydreaming. He wondered what it felt like to have someone who cared about you around constantly, He couldn’t really remember. His dad didn’t seem to even exist most of the time. His mother had always been fragile and even though they had been very close he was beginning to be unable to recall the exact shade of her eyes or the smell of her hair. The thought made him feel expressly lonely.

He’d had a girlfriend or two and that had definitely not worked out for him. He’d yet to have an actual boyfriend, but he was patient. For the most part, he has resigned himself to eternal loneliness. Castiel didn’t mind being alone, he was used to it at least. He studied Dean out of the corner of his eye, envying his easy good looks. He noticed a fading yellow bruise peeking up over his collar. He snapped his eyes back down, _looks like somebody’s girlfriend is a little frisky_ , he thought to himself a little disappointed.

Dean looked up and caught his gaze. Castiel panicked. “It looks like it’s going to be a great year!” he said through his cheery fasad.

Dean’s face seemed to fall for a minute before a smile lightened his -- absolutely gorgeous -- face. “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”  The bell rang just then, saving Castiel from more fake happiness and sending Dean away from him. “Later,” said Dean and he walked stiffly away from Castiel.

 

 

_Castiel watched him go._ Man, am I in for it this year. . .

 

 

 

***

 

 

When Charlie walked into 3rd period English, she found Dean had beaten her there. She felt dread in her gut, knowing she had to broach an uncomfortable subject with him at some point. He was staring out of the window into the rain, a contemplative look on his face. Charlie couldn't help but think how much she loved him. Not in a romantic way, but as a brother and her best friend. Her eyes went from his green eyes, down his jaw to a series faded green bruises on his neck and shoulders, barely peaking up over his flannel shirt.

"Dean?" She said softly as she sat in the desk in front of him. She turned around in her seat to look at his face, "Dean? Where are you?"

Dean jumped in his seat a little, "huh?"  He looked legitimately frightened until a friendly mask settled itself back over its face. He gave her his signature smirk that she knew could make any straight girl swooned and Charlie panicked. She couldn't say it. "What's up, Charlie?" He asked.

She had to say it. She glanced at their teacher, Ms. Ryan, who was sitting with her feet on the desk, reading a George R. R. Martin novel. "Reading day" was emblazoned hastily across the white board. Charlie had had Ms. Ryan for sophomore English as well and knew she couldn't be torn away from a good novel to do anything so unimportant as educate the youth. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Dean. It would be a long class period.

Looking in his eyes again, she couldn't say it. They were green and filled with laughter and love and hope. . . And secrets and hurt. . . And they matched that bruise far too well. She ignored that. "How was class?" She asked instead.

Dean got a little twinkle in his eye and feigned an exasperated face  "I already have 2 assignments in art!" He gave an exaggerated roll of his shoulder as if he were distressed and then laughed.

Charlie caught his omission. She raised her eyebrows, "and what about first period? Engineering?"

The eye twinkle was back and he folded his arms mysteriously. Oh, this boy was going to get it. Dean knew very well that Charlie could not take suspense. At all. He grinned at her and turned to the side. Charlie grabbed his arm. "Did you meet someone? A girl?" She asked excitedly.

Dean raised his eyebrows and pressed his already thin lips into a tight line.

Charlie’s eyes widened, "A boy?" She asked excitedly.

Dean did nothing but chuckle in response and Charlie threw her concerns to the side for a moment. “Tell. Me. Everything.” She demanded.

“His name is Castiel--”  Dean began.

“The fuck kind of name is Castiel?” Charlie interrupted, laughing. Dean shot her a look and she hushed.

Dean continued, “He’s new this year, he’s my partner in engineering. I’ll point him out to you if we pass him at lunch.”

“And I’ll scope him out with my far superior gaydar!” Charlie announced, elbowing Dean in the ribs. He grimaced before his face settled back into a neutral expression once more. _Fuck, I have to say it_ , she thought to herself. She felt terrible. He did nothing but laugh at her pronouncement, but she stilled. “Is your dad going to be okay with that?” she asked slowly.

She could tell Dean was struggling to keep an alarmed look off his face, “I mean I doubt he’d be _okay_ but I’m sure it’d be fine,” he groped for an easy going grin but failed miserably.

 _Dean Winchester, you’re not as good a liar as you think you are._ “I mean,” Charlie scratched at her still damp hair trying to think of something to say. “You know that you can tell me if something is wrong, right?”

The panicked, uncomfortable look on his face was not replaced this time. “What are you talking about?” He asked her, a little too defensively.

“Dean. . . I-- I know.” She said assertively. Her eyes meeting his, daring him to lie to her again.

His face fell immediately. “No. No you don’t. You can’t”

Charlie was at a loss, she caught his sleeve and unbuttoned it between her thumb and her forefinger. “Damn it, Dean.” She said, voice cracking a little. She yanked his sleeve up just enough to get a glimpse of the bruises and scrapes and scars “I know.”

Dean’s eyes widened and they watered a little before his head just dropped. _Fuck_.

 

 **A note from Blue:** Hello everyone! A considerably less dramatic chapter this time around but I think there’s some interesting moments. I hope you enjoyed it whether you enjoyed it or not drop me a line in the comments so I can keep improving! I love you all and your feedback is much appreciated :)

 

 


	3. I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of school after Charlie's revelation

_Fuck._ Dean dropped his head and couldn't meet Charlie in the eye for a long time after she said she knew. What was he supposed to say? Would she tell? What had he done to give it away? A part of him was relieved that she knew now. He had almost told her many times before, but he had always stopped short either out of fear or shame. At least she was talking of the beatings and not the other thing. He wiped away the tears that were welling up in his eyes not wanting to ruin his tough guy image. 

Charlie looked confused, concerned, and even a little hurt. "Why didn't you tell me, Dean?" she asked him, softly.

Dean studied his fingernails instead of looking her in the eye. They were incredibly clean, but bitten down to the quick and brittle. "I wanted to. . ." He  shook his head to clear it and slowly raised up his head to look into the eyes of his best friend, "I was afraid of what you'd think. . . or that you'd tell."

Charlie looked like her heart was breaking for him. She reached out and clutched his hand tightly in both of hers. "Dean. . . You should never be afraid to tell me anything." She bit her lip and glanced down at her hands. When she looked back up her expression was torn. "Telling. . ."

"Charlie you can't!" Dean pleaded, drawing his hand out of hers. 

Charlie looked at him with more understanding than he thought possible from someone who didn't know first hand. "Why, Dean?" She questioned him, her voice sounding ready to break, "it's not okay and you know it."

"Yeah, it's not okay!" Dean agreed passionately, "But what is worse is them separating Sam and me? I couldn't live through that, Charlie!"

"You're not safe! Sam's not safe!" Charlie protested. "What happens after we graduate? Then Sam will be alone! Wouldn't you rather get him someplace safe before then?"

"I can't! I just can't! He needs me, Charlie -- I need him."

Charlie nodded like she understood, but she didn't. She couldn't.  _Could she?_  

Dean was suddenly suspicious. "How did you figure out?"

She raised her eyebrows, "You're always bruised and whatever -- I'm not a moron, Dean." She said, a little too defensively. 

Dean folded his arms across his chest, which only hurt a little to do, and gave her a firm look. "Don't be a hypocrite."  He told her, seriously. She did nothing but smile squeamishly at him. Dean thought of Charlie's step-father, who took care of her with her mother in the coma. "What does he do to you, C?" 

"Just guess." She told him, sardonically, as she began to stuff her things back into her backpack. The bell rang. 

 _Oh no._ Dean groaned internally.  _Charlie. . ._

Charlie looked at him with a quirked eyebrow as though she could read his thoughts. She stuck her hand out for her best friend to shake. "Look, I'll treat you the same if you treat me the same, deal?" 

Dean grabbed her hand and shook it firmly before pulling her into a hug. "Deal. Now, let's go get lunch." 

"Right," She giggled and slung her backpack over her shoulder. 

 

***

Castiel had no idea where to sit at lunch. On the first day he had skipped and hidden in the library, relishing the sweet smell of dusty books. That had left him feeling faint by the end of the day and he cursed his disease like he did every single day of his life. He'd been so bad off he'd even, to his disgust, stopped to get fast food on the way home. He thought of Jo, Ellen's daughter who was a freshman this year, he scanned the cafeteria for the skinny blond but when he found her she was surrounded by a pack of other, overly enthusiastic 15 year olds. Jo saw him and waved; he returned the gesture but decided against sitting there. Some of the girls at Jo's table were staring and already asking Jo about him. He couldn't deal with that today. 

He kept walking through the cafeteria and saw Dean Winchester, his engineering partner, sitting alone at a table with a pretty red-headed girl wearing a Gryffindor sweater and Deathly Hallows earrings. _That must be his girlfriend._  The two were goofing around, shoving each other playfully back and forth. Castiel felt a pang of disappointment and even jealousy looking at Dean interact with his girlfriend. Dean glanced up and saw him standing alone. He leaned over and said something to the girl, who got incredibly excited. Dean put his head in his hands, exasperated. Castiel was about to turn away when the girl locked eyes with him and waved him over. 

Castiel stared in shock for a moment, before joining them at their table. He extended his hand politely, "I'm Castiel Novak. You must be Dean's girlfriend." 

She got a twinkle in her hazel eyes and looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Ohh. . ." She looked at Dean, who's head was still on the table, and back to Castiel. "Oh, I'm  gay," she said shaking his hand erratically. 

Castiel choked, not expecting such a random pronouncement. Dean looked up, slightly exasperated. "Charlie." he sighed, " Her name is Charlie." 

Charlie looked as though she was enjoying the two boys' discomfort far too much. "Well he's right, but my middle name is gay." She stopped to take a sip of her chocolate milk. "yes, you've sat at the gay table. We're all gay here." She looked left and right and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Well, except Dean, he's bi. But we'll let him pass, right?" 

Castiel was appalled. "How did you know I'm gay?" 

"Well, honey," said Charlie sweetly, "who else would wear a sports jacket like that?"

Castiel looked down. He was still wearing his trench, how did she know about his jacket? Did Dean mention it? He suddenly felt self-conscious of all of his layers and tugged at his trench coat uncomfortably. Another thought struck him suddenly. Maybe Dean had  _liked_ his jacket? He just smiled awkwardly. 

"Sorry about her," Dean said, grinning. 

Castiel laughed it off and tried not to melt at the sight of Dean's perfect teeth and radiant smile. "It's fine. I'm just really not used to being around all of these people." 

"Oh?" Asked Charlie curiously, "where did you transfer here from." 

He sighed, seeing no point in lying, "I, uh, actually came from rehab. . ." He tugged at the collar of his coat. 

Charlie looked as though she'd just met the queen of England. "Whoa! Like for drugs?" 

Dean almost spat out his milk, "Charlie!" he scolded like a mother hen. 

Castiel chuckled, "No, uh, it was for EDNOS. . . and stuff. It's an eating disorder-- I got sick."

Charlie eyed him and his untouched lunch. "Then eat, now. We'll make sure you do." 

Castiel took a bite of a french fry. That was an incredibly strange thing to say to a practical stranger, but still it warmed his heart. "Don't worry. I think I've learned my lesson." 

"Well good," Dean replied warmly and Castiel's heart thudded and he could feel heat rising to his face. He hid it by shoving his burger in his mouth. Dean was so attractive and so nice. His light brown hair was perfectly tousled and his eyes were the most vivid green Castiel had ever seen and his smatterings of freckles were too adorable. 

Lunch was great. 

***

Dean picked Sam up from the front steps of the middle school. "I'm working tonight, so what do you want to do when I get off?" Dean asked him. 

Sam was eyeing Dean with concern. "I guess I can go to the library until you're done." 

Dean smiled down at him, "Okay great. How was school?" 

As he listened to Sam's random school adventures Dean could feel himself winding down. They kept the conversation light and trivial until Dean left Sam in the library parking lot and continued on to the grocery store. Meg fell into step with him as soon as he walked in the door. 

"You're late." She reminded him. 

"I know, had to drop Sammy off after school." he replied. 

"Oh, cool." That's what Dean liked about Meg, she never asked too many questions. Meg was usually his cashier when he bagged groceries. Which meant she made an hourly wage when he only got tips. He still made almost as much as her, though. 

At the end of his shift Dean said goodbye to Meg and went to pick up Sam. He let Sam babble on about the cool book he had read while in the library. They got home at 8 PM and their father was passed out in his chair. Dean sent Sam to his room to finish any homework and cleaned up the mess John had left in his wake, trying hard not to wake him up. He was successful and by 9 the apartment was spotless and John was still passed out drunk and Dean, though sore and tired spent another thirty minutes trying to draft a couple projects in his art journal. 

Finally, he collapsed into his bed, but he could do nothing but stare up at the ceiling thinking of Castiel's face. 

Across town, Castiel's entire house was empty and he lay in his bed just thinking about Dean. 

 **A note from Blue:** I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update! College life and all. I swear I won't make it a habit. Anyway, tell me what you think. Any and all feedback is welcome and remember -- I love you all!

 


	4. Slumber Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is looking up for the gang. For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry for the long wait. Thanksgiving break is next week and finals is a week after that and then I promise I shall spam you with many updates over Winter Break. I love you all and I hope you enjoy!

The first several weeks of school had gone by incredibly fast. Dean, Castiel and Charlie became fast friends and one rarely did anything without the others. Charlie's step father was out of town and she decided it was high time they had a sleepover party. Castiel had no trouble committing to that, no one cared what he did. Dean had a bit more trouble, but Sam had, fortunately, found a friend to stay the night with. They rode home from school in Castiel's Audi convertible. Dean had gone on for so long about the specs of the car that Castiel told him he could drive; he needed no encouragement. Charlie's house was nice and clean and far enough from the school for Castiel to have plenty of time to stare at Dean as he drove. Cas caught the knowing look that Charlie shot him and quickly tried to look anywhere else. His hands, the leather upholstery, the steering wheel, left hand gripping the steering wheel while his right sat on the median between them. Maybe not looking at Dean was hopeless. Apparently, Charlie thought so too because he could hear her snickering in the back seat. Dean was paying far too much attention to the car to pay his two best friends any mind. Castiel turned around and made a face at her and went right back to staring at Dean. Dean didn't notice.

Dean was having a great couple of weeks. His dad was drinking less and he'd only beaten Dean twice since school started. He hadn't raped him at all. Dean knew better than to expect it to last. When he was sober, John Winchester was almost a good father. He drove his sons to school, sometimes he made family dinners, he talked to Dean about cars and praised Sam on his homework grades, he'd even given Sam and Dean both permission to go out tonight, though he certainly didn't think Dean was with his "gay friends". He was an entirely different person. Sam and Dean still tread carefully, terrified of unleashing the monster, but it was hard to keep up their guard all the time. The times John was a good dad almost made the beatings worse. It made Dean feel as if he deserved it. As if it were his fault. Why couldn't he  _just_ like girls? Why couldn't he be normal? Why couldn't he be good enough? But for now, things were okay. 

Things at home were practically normal, his bruises were fading, school was great, his friends were great,  _Castiel_  was great, his car was great, his smile was great, his purposefully messy, dark hair was great, his piercing blue eyes were great, his ass was great --  _wait! Don't make it, weird Dean. We're just three queer friends having a queer sleep over._

Charlie's voice snapped him out of it, "Dude, you drove right past my house." 

Dean looked around and sure enough they were far down Charlie's street. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at Charlie, "Sorry about that. Just wanted to keep driving Kitten, here" 

"K- k- Kitten?" Castiels sputtered, aghast.

Dean winked, "she's a sexy car, she needs a sexy name." He patted the wheel, "she ain't quite as good as Baby will be, but she'll do for now." 

Charlie and Castiel were used to Dean talking about the impala enough that they just smiled and nodded like they understood what was happening. 

"Anyway, it's a beautiful October day! Not a cloud in the sky, wind in our hair, we gotta keep driving!" Dean told them. 

"I could show you my house," Castiel murmured, 

Dean and Charlie both whipped their heads around to look at him. "Your mansion,  you mean?" Charlie teased. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, "get on the highway," he said to Dean. Dean hooted and pumped his fist in the air, turned the music up and headed towards the highway at top speed. 

Dean had known Castiel was rich. His dad was apparently this real estate developer that owned, like, half of Kansas. He hadn't, Dean supposed, quite surmised how rich, as he pulled up to a gate that Cas told him the key code to punch in and swung upon to allow them entrance. The driveway was long and rounded and wound through perfectly manicured grounds with a checkered pattern mowed in the grass and every shrub was a perfect circle. The house itself was huge. Two stories tall, made of red, brown brick with huge white columns along the front and a wide, wrap around porch. 

"Just park here," Castiel told him as he reached the crest of the drive way. He did. Even Charlie was silent in awe, "Okay guys," said Cas nervously, "it's a big house, let's get over it." They agreed and walked into the house. 

"Ellen?" Castiel called out as they stepped inside. 

"Right here," she said, walking into the foyer, she stopped short. "Oh! You brought friends!" 

"Ellen?" Asked Dean, suddenly confused. 

"Dean?" she exclaimed and embraced him. 

Castiel was thoroughly confused. "You know each other?"

"Dean's at my house fixing up that piece of junk car every weekend." Ellen explained, "Bobby just loves him."

"Small world," said Dean, smiling. 

"I'll make dinner before I get going. What do you three want?" 

"Anything is fine" said Charlie and the same time both Dean and Cas said "burgers!" 

Ellen laughed, "you two are a match made in heaven, I'll tell you what!" 

Cas and Dean stared awkwardly  in different directions and edged away from each other. Charlie giggled and Ellen winked at her. "So, tour?" Cas said, still moving away from Dean slowly. Dean cursed himself. Of course someone like Castiel Novak wouldn't want to be with someone like Dean Winchester. They left Ellen to her work in the kitchen and Castiel lead them throughout the house. Dean thought it looked more like something from a magazine than a place people actually lived. It was kind of sad, he tried to imagine what Castiel must feel being alone there after Ellen left every day.  By the time they made it back around to the kitchen, Ellen had their food waiting for them. She gave a hug to both Dean and Cas and told Charlie it was nice to meet her and left. 

"What do you want to do?" Asked Castiel when they had finished eating. It felt nice to have people in his house. It made it feel more like a home. 

Charlie spoke up, "we were going to go swimming at my house, we could do that here."

Castiel panicked a little. "Swimming, yeah." he said, hoping his nervousness didn't show. He lead them back out to the car to get their bags and then out to the poolhouse to change.  He left them to go get his own suit on.

After Cas left to go get changed Charlie skipped into the bathroom and came back wearing her pokemon themed bathing suit. Dean had changed while she was gone and wore his plain green swimming trunks and a t shirt. Charlie raised her eyebrows, "off with the shirt." she demanded. 

"What? No!" said Dean, defensively. 

"for Cas. . ." she countered in a mock demure tone. 

"But, my scars, Charlie." He argued pleadingly. 

Charlie lifted his shirt and examined his chest and back. A few light marks peppered his chest and a long white one ran from his should blade down his ribs. "You have to accept yourself before anyone else will," she told him gently. He rolled his eyes at her, but removed his shirt anyway. He raised his eyebrows at Charlie when Castiel came back into the room wearing a longsleeved wet suit shirt. 

"Cas," she said emphatically. "You're wearing long sleeves." 

"Yeah." he agreed, not seeming to get the point. Then his eyes flitted to Dean and he stopped in his tracks. His body was thin, but by no means was it frail. His muscles were chiseled out firmly though they didn't add much bulk to his stature. Cas found himself checking out Dean's biceps and that absolutely gorgeous v-shaped line of his hips that dipped down into his army green shorts and made Castiel want to lick his lips with desire.   _I am a sinner_ , he thought sardonically and shook his head to clear it.

Dean laughed a little at Castiel's reply. He thought he felt the other boy's gaze lingering on him a little longer than usual. Dean felt self conscious, sure that he was staring a his hideous scars. Instead of hiding, though, he stared back. Castiel was thin under his bathing suit. Very thin. His skin was pale like porcelain and his many of his veins were visible, almost as blue as his eyes.  _Has he been eating_? Dean wondered to himself. Charlie, however, was not about to leave the shirt issue alone, "come to think of it I don't think I've ever seen your arms." 

Castiel shrugged, "I get cold," he muttered weakly. 

"It's October. In Kansas." Charlie pointed to the window "It's still like 80 degrees outside." 

Dean was starting to notice dark shapes under Castiel's white shirt. Bruises "Char--" Dean tried to cut her off but Castiel spoke over him. 

"Fine," he said and yanked off his shirt. He was even thinner than Dean had imagined. Skin and bone separated by a thin layer of muscle that looked rock solid. It must have been his only source of weight and was the only thing keeping Dean from being able to count his ribs. Dean's eyes moved to Castiel's arms and he noticed feathers.  The dark shapes he'd noticed before were the most intricate and realistic tattoos he'd ever seen. He couldn't help himself. Dean stepped forward and ran his hand down his friend's arm. They were scattered down his arms as if they were falling gently. His hand still on Castiel, Dean circled around him. His hand trailed back up his arm, over his shoulders and down his back. Taking up Castiel's entire back was a tattoo of an angel crouched on his knee, winds spreading up to Castiel's shoulders and around his ribs. The angel's face was blind folded and his wrists and ankles were manacled to the ground. Dean traced his hand along the curve of the angel's face, right in the center of Castiel's back. 

The way Dean was lightly dragging his finger tips along his flesh was driving Castiel insane. It was taking all of his restraint not to just pull Dean to him and kiss him. Still, Dean was standing impeccably close. So close that when he muttered, "that is beautiful," Castiel could feel his hot breath down the back of his neck. Cas pulled away so he could look Dean in the eye. "You really think so?" 

Charlie was staring in awe, "man," she complained, "if only I were straight. . ." She moved to stand closer to her two friends, trying not to feel too third-wheely "Why do you keep it covered?"

"I did it when I got sick. I wanted to be noticed. It was silly. Father says it's an embarrassment." Castiel explained, not looking at either of them.

Dean looked at his feet sadly, "Well, I think it's awesome." he said, wanting the sad look to leave Castiel's eyes. It worked and Castiel grinned and pushed his already messy hair back from his face. 

Castiel was relieved his friends didn't find him some sort of freak. They swam until night fall and then sat in the hot tub for sometime thereafter. When they got out they were wrinkly and high on life and hungry all over again. 

When they got dried off and dressed and back inside Dean stumbled upon the wet bar and raised his eyebrows at Castiel, who shrugged and began mixing drinks for each of them while Dean grabbed a few beers and Charlie popped popcorn. Dean and Castiel set the drinks aside and set to pulling every available blanket and pillow into the theatre room to make a nest on the floor. Charlie bounced in with drinks in one arm and popcorn in the other.  "So what do you wanna watch? Brokeback Mountain?: She asked, teasingly. 

Castiel found himself blushing deep red and took a calm sip of his beer to hide it. Dean just shrugged. Charlie flipped through Cas' DVD collection and finally settled on The Hobbit trilogy. Which, Castiel supposed, he should have expected when he had agreed to let her pick the movies. 

Despite her innate love of Tolkien, Charlie was on her fourth beer and fell fast asleep about two minutes into the second movie. Dean crammed a pillow under her head and tucked her in, which Cas thought was sweet. When Dean sat back down beside him Castiel tried hard to pretend he was watching the movie. He was far to distracted by the proximity of Dean's body to his own. He reached out for Dean's hand the same time Dean reached for his and Castiel was surprised to find that they were now holding hands. Castiel blushed and looked away; when he looked back he found that Dean's face was mere centimeters from his. Later, Castiel would say the liquor made him bold and Dean would counter that he just couldn't resist, he let go of Dean's hand and wrapped his arms around his neck. 

And so it was how they had their first kiss. Tangled up on the floor, a little drunk, and tasting of beer and popcorn but both of them would continually affirm it was the best first kiss in the entire world. 

Dean was shocked at first that Castiel had pulled him in for a kiss, he'd been expecting to have to make the first move. He couldn't say he minded, though, and melted quickly into the kiss and snaked his arms around Castiel's waist, pulling him close on top of him. He loved the feeling of Castiel's warm body pressed against him, their legs tangled together and Castiel's fingers tugging at the hairs on the back of his head sending chills down his spine and a rush of warmth a few other places. He was filled with love and a little bit of lust. . . or maybe equal parts of each. Dean pulled Castiel even further on top of him and leaned all the way back on the floor. He gave him another deep kiss then nipped his lip, then his jaw, then his neck, then his shoulder where Dean lingered, biting and kissing and sucking just under the collar of his shirt, eliciting a small moan from Castiel's lips. 

Which was, apparently, enough to wake Charlie. "Ugh. That's cute and all but get a fucking room." She groaned at them, before rolling over and covering her head with a pillow. Dean and Castiel pulled apart, both breathing heavily and bright red from embarrassment. They looked at each other's faces  and laughed. They leaned in for one more chaste peck on the lips before they cuddled up and went to sleep themselves. Things were good.

That is, until Dean's phone rang. It woke all three of them. The clock on his phone flashed 4:30 AM as he unlocked it to answer the call. Castiel wasn't sure what it was, he hoped it wasn't Dean's dad. He wasn't sure of the gravity of the situation, but he knew he wasn't a very nice man. Dean's face drained of all color and Cas feared the worse, he reached out and grabbed Dean's free hand. Dean said one word and one word only, but his voice was filled with so much agony both Cas and Charlie thought they could hear Dean's heart cracking.

" _Sammy!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! What's wrong with Sam!? The next chapter should be up soon. I hope you all like this chapter and the work over all. Leave me your opinions or suggestions in the comments! I'd love to hear from you all!


	5. Lawrence General Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean rushes to the hospital to find Sam comatose and Castiel runs into problems of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting! To be honest I've been too sad to do much of anything but I'm getting better and I promise I am not going to abandon this story!

Dean had woken to his cell phone ringing at 4:30 AM. At first he figured it would be his dad, drunkenly demanding he return home immediately. He mumbled a hello into the phone and a gruff voice asked if he were Dean Winchester. Dean felt a little more awake when he confirmed he was.

“I’m sorry to inform you, sir. There’s been an accident. . .” he paused a second and Dean put the pieces together, his heart slowly sinking to his stomach.

“ _Sammy?!”_

The man sounded sympathetic and distinctly uncomfortable, “Yes, sir. We need you to come to Lawrence General and identify your brother.”

Dean’s entire world was falling apart, the world tilted a little and his eyes burned as his vision took on a dark tinge. “Identify him?” Dean asked, he choked, “You mean his – his body?”

“Sir this would be easier if you just—“ Dean hung up.

He looked up in despair and saw that his friends had already gathered his things. Castiel held out the bundle of clothes Dean had brought and he changed into them, not caring they were still in the room. The three of them rushed out to the car, Dean shaking erratically. Castiel looked at him sympathetically and took the keys from his wobbling fingers and got in the driver’s seat without a word. Castiel drove nearly as fast as Dean would have and they were at the hospital in record time. Dean tumbled out of the car before it even came to a complete stop; Charlie and Castiel had to run to catch up.

Dean breathlessly skidded to a stop at the front desk, “I’m Dean Winchester, here for Sam.” He gasped.  Somewhere along the way Dean had gripped Castiel’s hand and he was grateful for the support.

The nurse eyed the three of them, “I’m sorry, only two at a time.”

“That’s fine,” said Charlie with a polite smile, though she looked shaken. She retreated to the waiting room.

“What’s wrong with my brother?” Dean demanded as soon as they were lead into the back.

This nurse was much kinder than the man on the phone had been. She looked sympathetically at Dean. “There were three people in the car with your brother, two boys and one grown woman. We found his cell phone and the cell phone of Garth Fitzgerald and his mother Colleen. Colleen and one boy were dead on arrival, the other boy is here. . .” she gestured to the door to the morgue.

Dean gulped as they walked through the door. Castiel squeezed his hand and Dean squeezed back so hard Castiel thought his fingers might pop off. He didn’t let go anyway. The nurse pulled out a drawer but Dean couldn’t look. He looked at the feet first, but one leg was missing and the other was mostly crushed. There were gashes and gauges on the chest and face making the body hard to recognize. The skin was pale and tinged green and part of the skull was crushed in. Dean wanted to puke. Close cropped dirty blonde hair gave it away, and Dean sighed with relief, feeling immediate guilt. "That’s Garth. It’s not Sam.”

The nurse nodded. “Well, let’s go upstairs and see your brother then.”

Castiel was beginning to feel as though he’d seen far too many dead bodies in his lifetime. Four now? Gross. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. He was, however, incredibly relieved that the particularly gory cadaver that had been in front of them had not been Sam. He tried not to think of it as formerly a person. He squeezed Dean’s hand as they followed the nurse out of the morgue. He knew from extended personal experience that only close family members were allowed in the ICU but no one said a word as he trailed alongside Dean

The boy in the hospital bed was scarcely recognizable as Sam. His face was bruised and swollen, his arm in a cast and his body was pale. A freshly stitched cut ran along his collarbone and dipped beneath his hospital gown. His hair, once curly and long, had been shaved away so a cut along his head could be treated. Dean made a terrible, gasping, sobbing noise and lurched forward, falling to his knees beside his brother’s bed, his head resting near Sam’s feet.

Castiel had no idea what to do. Dean was sobbing loudly, but after a while he quieted. “He told me he didn’t want a buzz cut.” He said without looking up. He took a few more seconds to compose himself before he dragged his eyes from his baby brother’s broken form to the nurse who wiped a tear from her own eye. “What happened to him?” Dean asked quietly.

“From what we can tell, Sam was with the Fitzgerald's going someplace early this morning. They were struck by a drunk driver, Ms. Fitzgerald and her son were dead on arrival. Sam’s being in the back seat probably saved his life.”

Dean’s eyes flashed darkly, “And the driver?” The look in his eyes was so murderous Castiel took a step back. Dean put on a tough guy facade but Castiel had always seen right through it to the timid, almost frightened boy he thought he might be falling in love with. There was no sign of that boy in those flaming, green eyes.

The nurse paused. “We didn’t get his name . . . he was hospitalized for a broken wrist and a concussion but he – uh – walked out.”

Dean was up and across the room in a flash, “HE WALKED OUT?!” he boomed loudly. Sam didn’t stir.

The nurse flinched, “I’m sorry, we were busy this morning, we didn’t see him leave, we had other priorities -- like saving your brother!”

Dean was angry. Castiel could feel it radiating off of him and it made him so anxious he wanted to curl up and melt into the floor. Some force drove him to step forward anyway. He put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder, “Dean, be calm.” He said firmly, but soothingly.

Dean flinched like a frightened child at his touch, then pulled away violently and shot Castiel a look so angry it felt like daggers in his heart. Dean’s eyes got wide and he seemed to remember where he was. His face immediately changed into an apologetic one and Castiel felt his heart melt. A single tear fell from Dean’s eye and he turned around and silently sank into the chair at Sam’s bedside clutching Sam’s uninjured hand to his face.

Blinking back tears himself Castiel opened the door into the hall and gestured for the nurse to follow him. “Will he wake up?” Castiel asked her as soon as the door had shut.

“He. . . Sam has sustained pretty severe head trauma. If he wakes, I’m not sure he’ll be the same Sam.” She said solemnly.

“But will he wake up?” Castiel persisted.

She hesitated, “if he does, it will be soon.”

Castiel nodded and reached for his wallet. “I don’t know about the insurance situation but I don’t want any of them to have to deal with this,” he told her as he handed over his credit card.

She started a little, “are you sure you want to. . .” She must have seen the Novak name on the card because she clamped her mouth shut quickly.

“A private room, the best care.” Castiel told her. “Anonymously, of course.” He added.

“Of course,” she agreed and hurried off to enter the card information.

Castiel looked through the door’s window and saw Dean still leaned over Sam. When Castiel had been ill no one had come for him. The nurses described a man that sounded like his older brother Gabriel, but he had not been there when he’d awoken. His other brother’s Luci and Michael were unlikely candidates because Luci had betrayed the family and was high up in another company. Michael did nothing but try and bring that company down so he had no time for the actually family. Gabriel had rejected joining the company and disappeared backpacking abroad or something as soon as he graduated. He came for birthdays and a few holidays until 2 years ago when their mother had died. Castiel hadn’t seen any of his brothers since her funeral.  

Castiel was beginning to feel dizzy. He remembered vaguely that he’d not eaten nor taken his medication since the day before. A quick glance at the clock told him he’d been awake without it for an hour, a much shorter time than it usually took for him to feel it.

Shortly after he’d left the hospital where he received his diagnosis was the last time he had seen his father. The clinic had been filled with parents crying with joy or desperation over the recovery or illness of their children’s diagnoses but Castiel had been alone. There’d been a nondescript car with a stranger behind the wheel to carry him away. After being effectively told he was infertile, had to take medication to get through daily life without his body shutting down, above average stress could kill him, and that his possibility of having a brain tumor was by far above average, Castiel was feeling a little numb inside. All of this because he wouldn’t eat after his mother’s death. God was a cruel bastard.

When the man behind the wheel of the car asked Castiel where he wanted to go he made a snap decision to go to the tattoo parlor because he wanted to feel pain and because he wanted to rebel. It took four and a half hours to get his tattoos and at the end of it the driver had to practically carry him back to the car he was so exhausted.

When he returned to his family’s house his father was in his study. Castiel walked in arms bare showing off his newly bandaged tattoos. Mr. Novak raised an eyebrow but otherwise showed no interest.

“I have no idea as to how I raised such a foolish son.” He looked back down to his stack of papers and began working. “It was all your mother’s doing. Filling your head with silly ideas.”

Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, _calm down, don’t get stressed out, don’t kill yourself._

His father went on to explain that Castiel was an embarrassment to the Novak name and that he’d be going far away from the base of operations in Seattle to the mansion his father had built in Lawrence, Kansas, Castiel’s mothers home town. The place his father had sent his mother to die. Castiel understood perfectly what his father was doing, what he didn’t understand whether he was the embarrassment or his disease was.

Castiel snapped back to the present. Still staring at Sam and Dean. _No, no one has ever worried over me that way_. The nurse came to return him his credit card but he could not take his hands off the wall supporting him to take it. “Mr. Novak are you okay?” she asked, sounding to Castiel has though she were very far away.

He groggily grabbed for the medical dog tag he wore under his shirt. When she read it the nurse cursed under her breath. He sank to the floor, her arms the only think keeping him from smacking his head. “I have a hypothalamus-adrenal-pituitary dysfunction. I need hormones for him now!” She called out but Castiel could no longer see her, only purple stars. He finally succumbed to the darkness as the unknown figures of the hospital surrounded him.

Dean, sitting with his brother in the private room that Castiel was paying for, heard nothing.

 

 

 


	6. Liar Liar Friends on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tells Charlie about his disease. Dean goes home to a revelation and a brutal beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated twice in two days! Aren't you proud! Thank you all for all your positive comments and try not to hate me after this chapter.

Castiel awoke groggily 2 hours later. He sat up in panic before a nurse ran to his side. “You’ve had an attack Mr. Novak.”

Castiel inspected the IV inserted in the crook of his arm grumpily. “You can skip the lecture. I promise to take my medication and eat every 2 hours and not get stressed out. I know this could potentially kill me and no I’m not trying to die on purpose. So are we good?”

She quirked an eyebrow up at him, “Have this conversation a lot, do you?”

“Once or twice,” Castiel replied dryly.

“Then I’m sure you know because of your eating disorder you have permanently damaged your hypothalamus, and your adrenal and pituitary glands. This effects everything you do. So I need you to do me a favor and make sure you take your medications on time, you eat regularly and healthily and you don’t get to worked up, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Castiel intoned.

She looked a little skeptical but she took him off the IV and told him he could go. He wandered off through the hall in search of his friends.

Charlie waited about an hour and a half for the nurse desk staff to change so she could sneak up stairs to see her friends. She spied Dean through a window, sitting next to the limp form of Sam. She felt a pang in her chest as she entered the room.

Dean looked up teary eyed, “Cas?”

“No, just me,” spoke Charlie as she sat down beside him.

“He walked out like an hour ago. . .” Dean sighed and looked around hopelessly, “I don’t know where he went but I needed him here.”

Charlie gave him a big hug. “I know. How about we go look for him?” She suggested.

Dean looked pained to leave Sam’s bedside but agreed they should find Castiel and get some breakfast. Dean said he’d check the bathrooms and left Charlie standing there staring at his retreating back. She walked the other direction down the hall, wondering if she might find him by the vending machines. She didn’t even make it all the way around the corner before she collided with him

Castiel’s hair was disheveled and not in the purposeful, stylish way it usually was. His skin was so pale she could see the dark blue of his veins pressing through his nearly transparent skin. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, making the blue stand out all the more and dark, heavy circles were underneath them.

“Cas?” She exclaimed, “Where have you been? Dean’s upset.”

“I uh . . .” He glanced to the bruise on his arm from the IV and hurried to pull his sleeve down. “I’ve been. . .”

Charlie gestured to his sleeve and rolled her eyes, “Nice bruise.”

Castiel sighed and cast his eyes down to his feet. “Come sit down with me and we’ll talk.” He told her and went and sat along the wall close to Sam’s door. He explained about his eating disorder after his mother’s death, that he’d damaged all this parts of his brain and all that the doctors had told him. He was infertile, he was a brain tumor risk, and a heart attack risk, and his blood pressure and his hormone levels made it hard for him to do much of anything without constant nutrition and medication.

Charlie listened to him without interrupting. When he met her eyes after he was finished with his tale they were brimming with tears. “Why didn’t you tell us?” she inquired with pain ebbing softly into her voice.

“I hate the way people treat me. I hate the pity. I hate the way you’re looking at me right now, Charlie. Like I’m already a corpse.” He told her dispassionately.

She tried her best to wipe the look off her face and replace it with a firm one. “You have to tell Dean.” She insisted desperately.

“I can’t” he groaned, “He’s got too much going on. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

She gave him a look like her didn’t know the half of it. “He’s mad at you for leaving him.”

“I wish I hadn’t needed to,” Castiel responded sadly.

Before Charlie could reply Dean walked out of the bathroom and saw them. They both stood. “What the Hell, Castiel?” His nostrils flared angrily and his eyes flashed; Castiel did not shy from him this time. “Why would you just leave me like that for hours?” his voices sounded pained and desperate.

Castiel looked in alarm between Charlie and Dean. “I – uh . . .”

Charlie spoke up, “Being in this place reminded him of his mom and he . . . he didn’t want to trouble you with it.” She lied, looking at Castiel pointedly.

Dean’s face had been hard from the trauma of the day and his anger but it softened immediately. He wrapped Castiel in his arms in his arms and kissed his forehead. “You could have told me, Cas,” Dean said, his lips still pressed against Castiel’s forehead.

Castiel slipped his arms under Dean’s and dug his fingers into the back of his shirt, breathing him in, “I know, I’m sorry.” Castiel whispered into the other boy’s chest.

“I’m sorry too,” Dean murmured. He held Castiel a moment longer before before stepping back and opening his arms to Charlie too. “C’mere you,” he said grabbing her by the waist and pulling them both into a hug.

Charlie gave Castiel a look but he ignored her and concentrated on not bursting out into tears instead on not bursting into tears.

The three of them stayed with Sam until visiting hours were over. They had to practically drag Dean from Sam’s bedside at the end of the evening but eventually he came. They rode in Castiel’s convertible with the top up, everyone a bit too solemn to enjoy the humid September evening. They dropped Charlie off first. She kissed each of them on the cheek and promised to see them on Monday. Castiel waited to make sure she got inside safely, which Dean found a bit ironic but he didn’t say anything.

When Castiel rolled up to the red brick apartment building they sat in silence, without getting out for a moment. Castiel could have sworn he saw fear in Dean’s eyes. It was odd that Mr. Winchester had never shown up at the hospital but Cas had experience with absent fathers. “You could stay with me again tonight,” He suggested, wanting the sad, haunted look in Dean’s perfect, green eyes to go away.

Dean smiled sadly, “I would but I think my dad would kill me. I have to work anyway. . .” He trailed off and glanced nervously at the dilapidated apartment complex as though Big Brother could hear him. “Thank you again, Castiel. You’re an angel.”

Castiel blushed bright pink at the compliment. “Good Night.” He leaned forward to give Dean a parting kiss. Dean pulled away before their lips could meet and glanced back up at the building. “Dean are you oka—“ Castiel’s question was muffled by the press of Dean’s lips against his own.

“I’ll see you Monday, angel” Dean said getting out of the car with pretend confidence. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Castiel blushed bright pink again and drove away with butterflies in his stomach as Dean retreated to his apartment.

Dean got on the elevator with trepidation. If his father had not shown up at the hospital today it meant he was back drinking again. The hall to apartment 613 had never seemed so short as Dean walked it, hoping his father had not seen. It sounded absurd but at least Sammy was someplace safe tonight.

John was wearing a coat and gloves when Dean walked into the apartment. It was odd, but Dean paid no special attention to it. His father stalked up to him. “I saw you, boy.”

Dean’s heart sank. His father had seem him with Castiel. His father had seen him kissing a boy. “What’s his name?” John asked roughly, he put his left hand around Dean’s throat.

“C—Castiel, sir.” Dean swallowed.

“Is that where you were all weekend?” he demanded, “fucking some pretty boy?”

John squeezing on Dean’s throat made it hard to answer, “No sir.” He croaked

“You’d think you’d have learned after all the lesson’s I’ve taught you.” John said as he threw Dean to the ground.

The wind knocked out of him, Dean scooted on his back away from his dad but he hit the wall. John began undoing his belt. “I guess we need another lesson. Get off that shirt.” He demanded.

Dean gulped but complied meekly. John reached down and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and flipped him onto his stomach. Dean held in screams as John whipped his back with the belt where the flesh had so recently healed creating new wounds and opening old ones. Dean sobbed silently as the welts formed on his back and shoulders.

John must have found Dean’s silence unentertaining because he yanked the crying boy from the floor. “After all of this you still want to be gay? Fine. I’ll show you how disgusting you are. Take off your clothes.” John sneered.

Dean was emotionally exhausted but he still protested that, “No sir, Please, No.” John reached for Dean’s pants with his other hand.

Dean felt something hard under the glove. He whirled around and snatched it off his father’s hand revealing a fresh cast. The nurse’s voice filled his ears _The drunk driver had a broken wrist and a concussion. He walked away._

Something inside of him snapped. He grabbed John’s arm, surprising him and smashed it so hard against the counter the cast broke into pieces. “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED SAM.” Dean boomed as his father stumbled back for a change. “You killed two people and put Sam – your son – in a coma!”

Dean punched his dad in the face as hard as he could. For the moment he didn’t feel the pain in his back from being whipped. “I do everything I can to protect him from you and almost kill him by” Dean punched him again “driving drunk?”

John showed no regret for his actions as he used his size to his advantage and picked Dean up and slammed him on the ground.

Dean was seeing red. He would kill him. He hurt Sam, he hurt him, he raped him. Dean was finally going to murder John Winchester. Dean tried to jump back up but his dad was much larger than 16- year-old Dean.

“You think you can take me boy?” John stomped on Dean’s face. “Think again.” He stomped on him one more time before pulling him around the counter into the kitchen. Dean was bordering unconsciousness after he had felt the full weight of a grown man crushing his skull but after years of abuse his pain threshold was high.

John grabbed a knife from the rack and went to cutting Dean’s already damaged flesh. _He’s going to kill me and no one will be here for Sam,_ Dean thought.

He screamed and screamed as John tore into his flesh and when it was over he was still alive. Dean was barely conscious when John cut his clothes off with a knife and carried him to the couch. Dean sobbed deeply as the grown man entered his body sending a feeling of white hot pain through his gut. “Still want to be a disrespectful fag you useless fuck?” John asked when he had finished.

John stalked back to his bedroom, surely to drink himself to sleep. “I hate you,” Dean whimpered pitifully from where he lay bruised and broken and naked on the couch covered in his own blood. He hated himself a little too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave your thoughts in the comments! And don't hate me for poor Dean's misery, John's just mean and its not my fault! Also check out my one-shot Love Wins, its about an established Destiel relationship and what they do when they found out they could get married in all 50 states!


	7. I Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realizes he can't get through the morning without Sam so he has to call in for some help.

Charlie’s Sunday morning was going okay. Her step father had still been out of town so she had been undisturbed by his groping hands. She’d stayed up late reading but still managed to rise relatively early to do her yoga. She was settling down in front of the TV with a bowl of Lucky Charms to binge watch Sherlock for the fourth time when her phone rang. Before she could even say hello she heard Dean’s croaking voice on the other end, “I need you.”

She jumped up in a flash and ran to her car, making the 15 minute drive to Dean’s house in less than ten. The doorman didn’t even look up at her as she crossed the lobby hurriedly and continually pressed the elevator button until it finally dinged open. She pressed for floor 6 and bounced her weight from side to side as the elevator made its ascension. Whatever Dean needed her for must have been serious; he never asked for help for anything. She walked down the hall to apartment 613 fearing the worst. She found the door to 613 slightly ajar. The living room was in disrepair, the remnants of a broken cast lay near the counter, several chairs toppled over, and a lamp broken in a corner – signs of a struggle.

She tread carefully over the wreckage, fearing John would loom over her at any second even though she knew he’d be at work by now. She heard water running in the bathroom and rushed in. Dean’s broken, half conscious form lying in the bath tub. The water was still running and the water in the tub swirled pink with blood.

“Dean!” Charlie shouted as she raced across the bathroom. She stuck her hands in the tub and immediately recoiled. “Dean this water is freezing!” she braced herself and stuck her hands back in and hauled him out of the tub.

“Charlie. . .” he croaked as she threw his arms over her shoulders so she could drag him down the hallway to his bedroom. Dean’s room was orderly, practically immaculate. The walls were bare, but the floor was clean and the bed perfectly made. She dumped him onto the bed and took a step back so she could look at him.  His chest and arms were covered in cuts that looked as though they’d been made with a kitchen knife. He was covered in bruised and scrapes and the clear parts of his skin were covered in gooseflesh from his ice cold bath.

“Sam usually fixes me up but he’s. . .” Dean explained, his throat raw from crying.

Charlie nodded tersely and wrapped him in a ratty blanket. “Dean I think we need to take you to the hospital,” she told him examining his cuts.

Dean pulled back from her violently, “and tell them how I got this way? They’d take Sam away! He needs me now more than ever.

“He needs you or you need him?” Charlie asked. “I really think you need stitches.” She leaned down and squeamishly poked at one of the cuts. Dean didn’t wince.

“I just need you to help bandage me up.” He told her pleadingly, “Please, Charlie”

She bit her lip, “Alright, but maybe we should call Cas. . . He’d be better at this than me.”

Dean looked conflicted, he’s known Charlie was squeamish about blood when he’d called but he couldn’t patch this up himself and he really hadn’t wanted Castiel to see him this way. Charlie was tearing up, “Dean I really can’t do this. I’d be too afraid to hurt you.”

Dean nodded stiffly, “Call him.”

Castiel was sick. Ellen was leaned over him all morning making sure he was keeping down food and making sure his vitals were okay. “You’re not my nurse, Ellen, you don’t have to do this.” Castiel said, sitting up in his bed. “I’m starting to feel better anyway.”

“Your blood pressure is low but I guess you’re looking a little better.” She smiled at him, “I guess you can get up. Try not to get into that much excitement any time soon, kid.”

“Winchester boys.” Cas grinned by way of explanation.

“Don’t I know it,” Ellen agreed.

“Why don’t you and Jo go home, Ellen, I’ll be fine.” Castiel said to Ellen even though he felt light headed.

“Well you call if you need anything” she said as she gathered up her things.

“Tell Bobby hello for me,” he called after her.

He laid his head back down as soon as the door clicked, unable to keep up the facade of health. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow his phone rang. His head was pounding so much he considered not answering until he remembered that Dean had promised to call.

A glance at the caller ID told him it was not Dean but Charlie. He answered anyway thinking something may have happened with Sam or maybe she wanted to scold him about not telling Dean about his illness.

“Hey Charlie.”

Her voice was shaking when she replied, “It’s Dean. We’re at his apartment. It’s number 613 if you just get here, please.”

Despite his headache and dizziness Castiel jumped up. “I’ll be right there.”

Castiel threw on his clothes hurriedly, rushed down the stairs and hopped into the car. As soon as he got to the red brick apartment building of Dean’s he rushed through the lobby, momentarily stunned by how shabby it was. He rushed through anyway and pressed the button repeatedly until it opened. The ride to the 6th floor seemed eternal but it finally opened. “613…613…613” Castiel muttered to himself looking for the door. He found it slightly ajar.

The living room looked like a bomb went off. The two of the four dining room chairs were splintered and broken, a shattered lamp stilled flickered every few seconds. The counter and the carpet were crusty with what looked like dried blood.

“Charlie? Dean?” He called out in alarm

“Back here!” Charlie shouted from the back room.

Castiel’s heart was racing, he tried to calm himself down fearing he might literally have a heart attack. He raced back to Dean’s bed room to find Dean cut up, bruised and broken lying on the bed and Charlie lying next to him in a puddle of tears.

Castiel gasped and was at Dean’s side in an instant. “Dean, baby.”

“Hey, angel” Dean groaned, attempting a smile.

“Shh. Don’t” said Cas cradling Dean’s head in his lap. He looked towards Charlie, “his dad did this?”

She nodded, “he doesn’t want to go to the hospital because if they ask too many questions they might take Sam away. He needs first aid but I can’t do it” She looked lamely at her shacking hands.

Castiel nodded. “Charlie go get me the first aid kit and some rags.” She ran to do as he said. “How much pain are you in, my dear?” He asked Dean gently even though his heart was beating out of control.

A tear slipped out of Dean’s good eye. “It’s gone a little numb. . . I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“Shhh, shhh,” Cas gingerly kissed away the tear. “We’ll get through this.”

Charlie came back with the supplies, she set them on the bed and excused herself to go do something about the mess in the living room.

Castiel took the blanket off Dean and tried to ignore the fact the other boy was completely naked. Dean seemed a little embarrassed but also seemed too out of it to care. “This is going to hurt.” Castiel warned as he dabbed the peroxide over all the cuts. Dean didn’t react much to it. Castiel didn’t want to think about what his threshold for pain must be.

Dean’s legs were bruised but weren’t cut up so Castiel leave them be, “I need you to turn around so I can get your back, sweetheart.” He wasn’t sure where the pet names were coming from but he was trying to be soothing. As soon as Dean turn something caught his eye. Carved deep into Dean’s shoulders was the word ‘faggot’ “Oh, Dean. . .” Castiel choked.

“What?” asked Dean in alarm, catching something in Cas’s tone.

“Your back. . .” _Calm down Castiel, your heart will go out_ Castiel heard in his mother’s voice.

“Take a picture and show me,” said Dean gruffly.

Castiel did as he was bid; he handed Dean his phone slowly, afraid of his reaction. Cas thought back to the night before when Dean had pulled away from his kiss and had looked afraid toward the apartment building. Dean shook his head sadly and, shaking a little, handed the phone back to Castiel. “Is this my fault?” Cas asked quietly, tears stinging at the back of his eyes. “Did he do this because he saw you kiss me?”

 _Calm down, Cas, Darling – your heart!_ Said Castiel’s mother urgently

“No, Castiel, he did it because he is an asshole. Kissing you is worth anything, babe.” Dean whispered, turning to kiss Castiel once more.

Castiel turned his face away, he busied himself cleaning the cuts on Dean’s back. “Don’t say that, Dean.”

Dean winced a little from the peroxide.  “It’s true,” he muttered.

Castiel ignored him. “How do you want me to bandage this?”

“Just put the gauze down and tape it with the medical tape.” Dean explained.

Castiel did as he was told and Dean hissed in pain when he dressed the wounds on his chest and near his ribs, but Cas didn’t relent until everything was bandaged properly. He then helped Dean dress in baggy sweats and a t-shirt. “Should I get some ice for your face?” Castiel asked tactlessly.

Dean opened his good eye as wide as he could, the left one was swelled practically shut and occluded with blood, “You mean I’m not still pretty?” asked Dean with a laugh. Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “I took pain medication before you got here.” Dean admitted a little shamefully.

“The prescription, narcotic kind?” Castiel inquired, a little alarmed, as he thought about the way Dean had been acting. Dean gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod; Castiel sighed and decided not to ask.  

“May I have that kiss now?” Dean asked sweetly, grinning deliriously.

“Baby, you’re high on pain killers and all hurt I think that’d be considered taking advantage of you.”  Castiel replied, gently pushing the hair back from Dean’s face.

“You kissed me when I was drunker than this,” Dean pointed out helpfully.

“I was drunk too.” Castiel responded, but he kissed him anyway. Dean deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into Castiel’s mouth but Cas pulled away. “Hey now, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, you’re my guardian angel. . .” Dean murmured, curling up like a cat in Castiel’s lap. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“What?” asked Castiel, surprised that, even high, Dean would still want him after what had happened.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.” Dean repeated, more firmly this time.

“Sure. Okay, Dean. I’ll be your boyfriend.” Castiel told him, heart racing, wondering if Dean would even remember this later. Dean fell asleep a little later and eventually Charlie came back in saying that she had cleaned all she could.

“We can’t leave him here.” Charlie pointed out, “if his dad does anything else to him it would kill him.”

“He can stay at my house until we can work out what to do.” Castiel said. He looked down at the sleeping form in his lap. “We just have to get him there.”

So they packed a small bag of Dean’s possessions, put some sunglasses on him and half walked half carried him through the apartment, down the hallway, in the elevator and out of the lobby to Castiel’s car. Luckily the lobby man was too busy with his copy of Busty Asian Beauties to notice.

Charlie fussed around Dean for a few minutes before she turned to Castiel.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked worriedly, as if suddenly remembering his illness.

“I’m fine. I’ll get Dean to my house and take my medicine and it’ll be fine.” Castiel replied, a little frustrated.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay too.” She said, “let me know if anything happens – to either of you.”

“Yes ma’am” Castiel half saluted as he got in his car and drove Dean back to his house. The mansion where his father sent people to die. He shook that grim thought out of his head.

This time Charlie’s voice joined his mother’s as he picked Dean’s limp form up from the passenger’s seat and carried him inside. _Are you sure you can do that? Your heart, Cas. You could die._

“I think I got it, thanks.” Castiel said out loud. He struggled up the stairs and deposited Dean on his bed. _I’m going crazy_ , he thought in his own voice this time.

 _Maybe it’s that brain tumor finally showing up,_ the voice of his mother suggested. Castiel ignored it.

He took his medicine from his bedside table and downed all six pills in one gulp. His head spinning and heart racing from the hectic weekend he laid down and curled up beside Dean in attempt avoid the heart attack the doctors were always saying he might have.

The world was spinning above him as he stared at the ceiling and thought about Dean. When it all finally went black he wasn’t sure if he had fainted or simply fallen asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading and let me know how you feel in the comments! Also don't forget to check out my destiel short story/one shot called Love Wins because it isn't sad like this one is!


	8. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean gives up and finally asks for help and he and Castiel finally get together

“Cas? Castiel?”

Castiel heard Dean’s voice coming from far away, but he couldn't quite seem to get through the thick fog of his head to open his eyes.

“Cas, my angel” he felt Dean press a kiss against his forehead.

Finally he shook the fog from his brain and pried his eyes open to see Dean’s bruised face hovering over him. “Good morning” said Castiel, smacking his lips in attempt to wet his dry mouth.

“Yeah except it's 4:30 in the evening.” Dean pointed out. His eyes were such a poignant, grass green Castiel imagined he could lie in them and smell spring time. The swelling in his face had gone down since that morning, but it was still red and purple and the left eye was blood shot, making it look even brighter green.

“You really should be resting, Dean” Castiel sighed.

“I have to work,” Dean replied “I was wondering if my boyfriend would drive me”

“What? No! You can't go to work, look at you!” exclaimed Castiel worriedly. “you’ll hurt yourself!”

“I will be fine,” said Dean, kissing Castiel on the tip of his nose. “I've gotta go.”

“What about your face?” Castiel insisted unceremoniously.

“Gee thanks.” Said Dean, deadpan. “I’ll tell them I took a baseball to the face.

The mention of baseball brought up an image of Dean’s butt in baseball pants to Castiel’s mind. Now _that_ was something he could think about for hours. He filed away that image for later and blinked back to reality. The look Dean was giving him told Castiel that this was a losing argument. “Alright let me get up.” Castiel told him as he rolled out of bed.

“Do you always sleep fully dressed? Dean inquired jokingly, “sports jacket and all?”

Castiel made a face at him, “Whatever, get yourself some clothes out of my closet.”

Dean laughed as he sauntered into the closet. Castiel was experienced in faking health and wondered how much Dean was hurting under his veneer. “Are there any t-shirts in here?” Dean called and Castiel wondered in to help him. Castiel’s closet was huge with a stand up mirror on the back wall next to a rack of perfectly color coded ties. The rest of the racks were organized by clothing item and color.

Dean was looking at the rack of shirts in mock disdain. He'd already found a pair of dark wash jeans that fit him and Castiel couldn't help but appreciate how nice Dean’s perky ass looked in them. He gestured to a set of drawers behind Dean, “In here.”

He opened it and tossed Dean a plain black shirt. Cas watched him change his shirt sadly, looking at the bandaged cuts and bruises. “I need something with long sleeves to cover. . .”  Dean held out his damaged arms lamely.

“Well, I don’t have any plaid,” Castiel said, laughing a little.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, here,” Cas handed him a plain, tan cardigan.

Dean buttoned it up and Cas almost swooned at how domesticated his boyfriend looked. “I look like a nerd.” Dean said plaintively

Castiel slipped on a pair of shoes and walked out of the door, “You are a nerd.” He said without looking back.

Dean grinned and followed him into the kitchen.

“pop tart?” asked Castiel offering the box towards Dean after plucking a package for himself. Dean accepted one and munched on it thoughtfully.  “Does it hurt much?” Castiel spoke gently.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged.

“Don't lie.” said Castiel. _Hypocrite,_ said his mother.

“A little.” Dean admitted, “I'm sore. The cuts sting. I wish Sammy were here but I'm so glad to be away from that God damned apartment”

Castiel nodded, “I'm sure Sam will wake up soon. . . After I drop you off I'll get some stuff so we can change the dressing on your cuts. Do you need anything else?”

“No, no really, Cas, you’re doing enough for me. Thank you so much for letting me stay with you.” Dean stated sincerely.

“Of course. . . I’d do anything to not have to see you hurt like that again,” Castiel assured him.

“I know,” Dean replied, leaning over the counter to kiss Castiel on the lips. Cas smiled into his lover’s mouth. It was hard to believe the first time they’d ever kissed had been drunkenly, two nights before. It felt as though the two of them had an eternity of kisses between them.

Castiel hopped up on the counter and swung around so he could better kiss his boyfriend. Dean stood up between Castiel’s knees wrapped his arms around his waist. Castiel reached up and cupped Dean’s face to deepen the kiss, being careful of the bruising.

Dean growled deep in his throat, he twisted his fingers even deeper in Castiel’s clothes, Castiel smiled against his mouth and kissed him hungrily.

“Well, glad to see you’re feeling better.” Ellen’s voice came as a surprise to them both. Dean stepped back from Castiel suddenly. Castiel scooted away from Dean so fast he lost balance and toppled backwards off the counter, knocking his head into the island. He scrambled up and stood up, his face bright red. “Ellen!” He exclaimed, his voice deep from embarrassment and the kissing.

Dean scratched behind his back awkwardly and flashed a grin. Even with the hurt face he was adorable. Castiel could have melted. “Heeeey, Ellen” Dean said.

Ellen raised both her eyebrows and pursed her lips before she set her bags on the counter. “I just came to make dinner. . . What happened to your face?”

“Baseball.” Said Dean and Castiel in unison, a little too quickly.

She hmmd but went about her business in the kitchen, “Will you be around for supper Dean?”

“Well, uh, Cas was just taking me to work,” Dean explained

“He’ll be staying here a few nights though so we can save him some,” Castiel suggested as he moved towards the door, “anyway we should get going”

“I’ll see you when you get back then,” said Ellen, chuckling lightly to herself.

Dean and Castiel started laughing as soon as they got outside. “That was mortifying.” Castiel wheezed in between laughs.

“Yeah, it was” Dean agreed as they got in the car.

Dean walked into work early for once, he waited around for Meg and made a big show of clocking in before her. She raised her eyebrow skeptically at him before she clocked in herself. “Here on time?” She asked, “I didn’t figure you would even show. I heard about your brother.”

“I'm staying with a friend until he gets better.” Dean explained as they made their way to the register.

“If you need anything let me know,” she told him as their first customer came along. He'd been coming in with bruises and lying about them since he started this job over a year ago. Meg had stopped asking after a few weeks. Either she'd believed his lies or resigned herself to never getting the truth, nonetheless she didn't ask about Dean’s beaten up face and he was glad.

He must have looked as sore as he felt because after the second customer had gone through Meg offered to let him ring people up and she'd bag their groceries. She'd offered this arrangement a few times before and Dean traded her gratefully.

They chatted amicably throughout their shift and Meg shared her lunch of macaroni and cheese with Dean because he had forgotten to bring one.

Castiel entered the store about 15 minutes before their shift was over. After being told he couldn't just stand in by the register he purchased 10 bags of m&ms

“So this is Castiel?” Asked Meg appreciatively as she admired his deep blue eyes and sculpted jaw.

“I sure know how to pick ‘em,” Dean agreed proudly as he locked up the register. He pecked Castiel on the lips, “Let me go clock out and we can go.”

Castiel smiled at him and watched him walk to the back with Meg. Meg had a cute face, round cheeks with dark brown eyes and long wavy hair. She was cute -- for a girl. Castiel dug his hands in the pockets of his trench, now filled with bags of m&ms, and waited for Dean to return.

When he came back they walked to the car together, hand in hand. The back seat was filled with shopping bags. “Been busy?” Asked Dean.

“Went and bought some things. . . I visited Sam.”

Dean seemed to hesitate, “and?”

“His coloring is getting better,” supplied Castiel, “but more of the same.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully as he took the keys from Cas and got in the driver’s seat. “He’ll wake up.” said Castiel far more sure than he really was.

It was nearly 11 by the time they got back. They heated up the dinner that Ellen had made them and made small talk while they ate it.

They went through all of Castiel’s shopping bags for the supplies to change Dean’s bandages when Dean found four sacks filled with clothes, shirts advertising classic rock bands, jeans in his size, plaid, flannel shirts. “Cas?” Dean asked in a sharp tone.

Castiel looked up sheepishly from the bottle of peroxide he’d just found . “I told you not to go out and buy a bunch of stuff for me.” Dean scolded.

“What? Those?” Asked Castiel, “Those are for me.”

Dean held up a flannel shirt skeptically. “Oh they’re for you?” He asked, eyebrow quirked.

“You’re welcome to borrow them any time though, Dean, what’s mine is yours.” Castiel replied, primly folding his hands.

“Oh no, this will look wonderful on you.” Dean grinned wickedly, “In fact why don’t you wear some of these at school next week.”

Castiel was cornered. “Of course.” he agreed as he organized all the medical supplies in the cabinet. “Let’s hang those up in the closet and we’ll bandage you up, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean laughed, helping gather up the purchases and bring them upstairs.

After they were done putting everything away Dean stripped off his sweater and t shirt and Castiel peeled off the old bandages so Dean could go shower. When he was done and mostly dried Castiel disinfected them all and replaced the bandages.

“Would you like me to get you your own room or --” Castiel started

“Can I stay with you?” Dean asked quietly.

“Of course, my dear,” Castiel said pecking Dean on the lips gently. “Go ahead and get in bed. I left some lights on downstairs.”

Dean got in bed and Castiel went downstairs so he could down his pills without Dean knowing. _Liar, liar, liar,_ his mother’s voice called out. “He doesn’t need to worry about me too. I’m fine.” Castiel replied angrily. _You lie to yourself too,_ she laughed. Castiel ignored her.

He turned out all the lights and ascended the stairs to his bedroom in the dark. He fumbled into the bed and under the covers. Dean immediately reached out and pulled him to him. Castiel curled up in Dean’s chest. Dean planted a kiss atop Castiel’s bed. “Goodnight my angel.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” replied Castiel, snuggling against him.

 _Goodnight Castiel . . ._ his mother added.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think.


	9. The Hospital Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel exchange words over Sam's hospital bed. They each have their own misgivings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW! It's been forever since I updated. Blame college. I suck. Actually I'm just really stressed. Thanks in advance for all of your love and support and for not giving up on this story. I promise you I won't give up! I have everything planned!

For the next several weeks Dean saw little of Castiel, though they lived together.  After school he would go to work and after work he would visit Sam and on weekends he worked on the impala.  On occasion Cas would convince him to slow down and they would go to dinner or watch a movie but sitting still drove Dean crazy. His body was healing but his mind was a different story. Castiel was perfect and they relationship was practically flawless but there was something holding Dean back.

“Hey, Sammy.” said Dean as he sat in the chair that had practically formed to his body in the last month. “Today is exactly one month since you've been in here. They say you're improving.”

He waited as if he half expected a response. “I've been collecting all of your homework. I know you'd hate to get behind.” He sighed, “I miss you so much, Sammy.”

He composed himself for a moment. “I've been good though. Castiel and Charlie are good too. They really want you to get better. Cas and I are doing well together. I know you only met him a few times but you would love him. I know I never told you I like guys but I know you'd support me. . .”

Sam lay peacefully in the bed. The heart monitor droned steadily in the background. His hair had grown back a little, leaving a short scruff on his head. He still had a cast on his leg but the bruises and scrapes had faded. Dean could almost convince himself that Sam was just sleeping.

“I always try so hard to protect you from him but I couldn't!” Dean cried out, “when you wake up I'm never letting anything bad happen to you again.”

He heard a knock at the door but he didn't turn around. “Dearest?” Castiel called softly he opened the door and slowly walked in. Dean quickly wiped his eyes and turned to look at his boyfriend. He was looking a little haggard. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and his skin was paler than ever; he looked thin -- was he eating enough ? -- and he shook slightly even when he was trying to be still.

“Hey, angel,” Dean smiled as Cas came and perched on the arm of his chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought I'd find you here.” Castiel said softly.

“I talk to him.” Dean explained, “they aren't sure if he can hear me but.  . .”

Castiel nodded in understanding, “he'll wake up” He promised.   _You don't actually know that,_ Castiel's mother reminded him in a singsong voice.

“Our father did this to him,” Dean replied bitterly. “He did this and he ran away. He killed two people. He nearly killed Sam. He still might. Sam might not wake up!”

“Maybe you should tell someone, Dean. . .” Castiel suggested timidly.

“No!” Dean shouted so loudly he nearly caused Cas to fall out of the chair.

“Dean, he nearly _killed_ you!” Castiel gestured towards Sam, “He nearly killed you both!”

 _He is so unreasonable,_ Castiel's mother added.

“So we won't go back. Or did you change your mind about letting us stay with you?” Dean argued.

Castiel looked taken aback. He could feel his heart rate going up. “What!? Of course not!” He protested, “I just don't think you should let him get away with this. He deserves to be punished.”

“And what would happen? I'd bounce around in the system a few years before I turn 18 and I might never see Sam again? Not going to happen.” Dean told him in a frustrated tone.

“I could help!” Castiel responded passionately. “We could pay for you to be emancipated, we could get a lawyer and make a case for you to get Sam!”

“I don't need you to keep throwing your money at me!” Dean exclaimed vehemently “You're doing enough feeding me and housing me.”

Castiel blushed, he had attempted to buy them clothes of ago and had lied and said they were for himself to avoid Dean's anger. His penance for the lie was Dean making Castiel wear the clothes before he would borrow them. Today he was wearing blue jeans and a red flannel; the only thing he could do to the outfit to make himself more comfortable with button up the flannel and where his khaki sports jacket. The first time Charlie saw him wearing some of those clothes she laughed her ass off. He was willing to do a lot for Dean.  “Dean--”

“End of discussion, Cas.” Dean said firmly. 

 _How rude! After all that you've done for him!_ Castiel tried his best to ignore him.

Dean still didn’t know that Castiel was backing Sam's hospital bill and private room. With his current attitude Cas wasn't sure how to tell him. Dean hated needing help. Castiel was in deep trouble.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” Castiel replied softly. He leaned down and kissed Dean on the lips. His heart was racing from the argument and he was beginning to feel dizzy. How was he supposed to convince Dean to report John when he couldn’t have a conversation with him without getting worked up and making himself ill.

“Me too,” said Dean gruffly, without tearing his gaze from Sam. 

 _He should be._ Cas's mom chimed in yet again. It sounded so real Castiel was surprised Dean couldn't hear her too. 

Castiel felt a pain in his chest it was if he could feel them slipping away from him. “It's Thanksgiving next week. . .” he brought up slowly.

Dean looked up a little disoriented. “Is it?”

“Charlie and I were talking about all of us doing Thanksgiving since…”  Castiel trailed off the words “since we don't have anyone else” hung in the air unsaid

“ Yeah, sounds good,”  Dean looked up and smiled half-heartedly at Castiel. He felt like there was something wrong between himself and Castiel, something more than Sam, and Dean's own reservation. He'd spent years being punished by his father for being bisexual. John raped him to show him - - train him how awful it was to be with a man. Maybe it had worked. Usually he felt safe with Castiel, but, occasionally Cas would kiss him or brush against him and Dean would suddenly feel terrified. But even that wasn't it. Castiel seemed distant; he didn't seem to care about Sam’s coma or Dean's recovery. Dean guess he didn't understand what it was like to be abused.

Castiel's head was spinning, without thinking he slid off the arm of the chair and into Dean’s lap.. He curled up and nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean sat in confusion a second before he wrapped his arms around Castiel and pressed his lips against his hair. “I love you,” Castiel mumbled Dean's chest

Dean felt his heart stop for a split second before he held Castiel even tighter “I love you too, my angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd appreciate if you left me your thoughts below! If you have instagram check out my Supernatural fan account, my username is CasFever! See adorable destiel pics and occasionally hear random life updates.


	10. Give Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang all gets together and eats a pleasant dinner, but before long there is trouble in paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter killed me to write, to be honest. Hope you enjoy it though!

Dean was napping in the living room when Thanksgiving came around. Castiel had forced him out of bed early to help him and Charlie cook. “Dean you’re supposed to be helping us!” Castiel called out from the kitchen with laughter in his voice 

Dean didn’t stir. “Dean!” Charlie shouted at the top of her lungs. Still there was no movement.

“Dean, there’s pie!” Castiel exclaimed. 

Dean fell out of the couch in his haste, “Pie? What?” Charlie and Castiel grinned at each other as Dean padded into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Where’s the pie?” 

“You have to help me make them, babe,” Castiel laughed good naturedly. 

Dean groaned but he grabbed an apron anyway. “What do I need to do, Boss?” He asked with a mock salute. 

Cas set Dean on peeling apples while he made the dough and Charlie started on the turkey. Castiel’s heart felt full as he worked with his two best friends. They joked and laughed and he was really, truly happy. He was so happy he could almost forget how much he was lying to Dean. He turned away for a second to grab a fork and when he turned back he was met with a face full of flour. When Charlie saw what Dean had done she bursted out laughing. To punish her for her laughter Castiel grabbed a fistful of flour and dumped it in her hair. Her laughing stopped abruptly, “Oh, it’s on!” 

The three of them engaged in an all out flour war. By the end of it they were all sitting on the floor laughing so hard they were practically in tears. Dean wrapped Castiel in a hug and gave him a dry, floury kiss causing Cas to sputter. “Maybe we should go back to preparing Thanksgiving dinner?”Charlie asked. 

“Of course!” Cas agreed and he turned back to the pies. “Come on Dean!” Dean complied and turned obediently to help finish the food. 

“Are Ellen and Jo bringing anything?” Dean asked. 

“A couple side dishes I think,” Castiel replied.

“Maybe we should clean up so Ellen doesn’t kill us when she gets here.” Dean suggested. 

Charlie and Castiel agreed wholeheartedly and they set to work. A few hours later the house was clean and smelling of turkey and all three teens had cleaned themselves up. The doorbell rang and Dean went to get it while the other two set the table. 

Bobby and Ellen’s daughter Jo barrelled through the door as soon as Dean had opened it and tackled him into a hug. He’d always suspected that the petite blond had a crush on him; boy, was she barking up the wrong tree. “Hi, Dean!” She said breathlessly before running off, probably to give Castiel the same hug. 

Bobby walked in holding a casserole dish and Dean took it from him before shaking his hand. “Hey, Bobby! How’s my baby doin’?”  

“Still rustin’ in my yard,” Bobby laughed “She’s looking good though, boy.” 

Dean smiled genuinely at him. “Ellen,” he said kissing her on the cheek as she walked in. “You’re looking good, Dean!” She exclaimed giving the boy a side-hug. They chit-chatted as they made their way into the dining room. 

Bobby grudgingly blessed the food and they ate blissfully. Dean hadn’t had a Thanksgiving since his mother had died more than 10 years before. He hadn’t really had a filling meal regularly before he moved in with Castiel since then either. He always made sure that Sam had enough to eat and with his meager budget he hadn’t had much left over for himself.  He’d never dreamed he would be surrounded by friends who love him and eating an actual meal. Afterwards they could all watch the game on a gigantic HD TV. Everything was perfect except that Sam wasn’t there. Dean almost felt guilty for having a good time while Sam was lying in a hospital. Dean felt it should have been him lying there.

Castiel was pleased. He’d been in the hospital last Thanksgiving and the one before had been just before the death of his mother. In anycase the dinner was far better than any stiff one he’d shared with his family and shareholders in the company. People were laughing and eating food they had cooked together. For the first time in a long time he didn’t feel disgusting for eating his fill. And most importantly the voice of his mother was silent -- for now anyway. He just wished Dean were happy. 

Castiel was in frequent correspondence with Sam’s nurses. His condition was steadily improving, but it was still up in the air if he would ever wake up. Castiel prayed to whatever cruel God existed in the universe that he would wake. He didn’t think that Dean would ever let go of Sam otherwise.  And then there was the drugs. Dean had been popping his father’s prescription pills to dull the pain of the beatings, but Cas had to wonder if that was all there was to that. He’d brought up his concern to Charlie but she had brushed it off, saying surely Dean wouldn’t do anything like that. Castiel wasn’t so sure, but he definitely didn’t understand why  a healthy person would make themselves ill with drugs. It made him sick to see people throw away something he couldn’t ever have. 

After dinner Castiel started feeling ill.He parked himself in the living room in front of the game, but he was unable to clear his head. He was freezing cold and the room was spinning. He had done everything right but he was still sick. He must have looked pretty bad because Charlie, Ellen and Jo were all eyeing him nervously. Castiel suddenly felt the need to escape their scrutiny. He mumbled an excuse and fled slowly to his room. He laid flat on his back, not quite awake but not quite asleep, cursing God for giving him this disease. 

It seemed like a long while before Dean crept into the room. “Ellen and Bobby and Jo are leaving.” He told Castiel. “You okay?”

Castiel sat up and gave his boyfriend his best fake smile, “Yeah, baby, I’ve just got a little headache.” He lied easily. 

Dean seemed unconcerned, “Well get up, we can go visit Sam.” 

_ Oh no _ Castiel thought in unison with his mother’s voice. Dean walked into the closet to grab a jacket. When he walked back out he seemed surprised that Castiel had not risen from bed. He raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “I’m not feeling up to it,” Castiel said lamely, “I. . . uh. . . really need a nap.” That wasn’t a lie. He needed a nap,  hopefully that would clear his brain and stop the goddamned room from spinning. 

Dean looked a little taken aback. He took a measured breath, “Cas, it’s a holiday and I would really appreciate it if you, my boyfriend, came with me to visit my brother.” Dean paused, then sighed, “I -- I need you.” 

That admittance almost made Castiel spring from bed, but he knew he wouldn’t even make it to the hospital before he was hit with an attack that he may not recover from. His whole body felt wrong, and sore. He felt as if he was seeing the world through foggy, distorted lenses and Dean’s voice sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel. No, if he tried to go with Dean he would collapse and Dean would know his secret and Cas would be in insurmountable pain. 

“I can’t right now, Dean,” Castiel protested.

“You can, you just won’t!” Dean snapped. “Why can’t you just do this for me?” 

_ How dare he!  _ Cas’s mom shrieked. Castiel laughed sardonically, “I think I’m doing plenty for you, Dean.” 

“You’re not! Your dad’s money is! All you do is sit around and whine that mommy is dead and daddy doesn’t pay attention to you. You don’t have real problems. Everything in your life is easy; everything is handed to you!” Dean shouted, causing Cas’s eyes to swim with tears and his head to become even foggier. 

_ Tell him! It’ll make him grovel at your feet. He’ll feel awful.  _ Castiel’s mother suggested maliciously. 

Cas rose from the bed, though it made him dizzy. The argument was getting out of hand  and his head was spinning so bad he feared he might faint. “Yeah, it’s  _ so _ easy for me.” Castiel replied sarcastically. 

“It is!” Dean exclaimed. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat and you think everything is about you. You don’t have to work for anything!” 

_ Tell him about this house. Tell him this is wear your father sends people to die. Tell him all of Kansas is your coffin and it’s being nailed shut as we speak!  _ Cas’s mother demanded.  _ Tell him! _

Castiel tried to remain calm though he felt his heart may explode out of his chest. “Baby, this is silliness, please calm down.” He pled. 

“No, Castiel.” Said Dean firmly, “I’m tired of the lies and the excuses.” 

“But Dean--”  _ Tell him _ . “I love you!” Castiel begged, 

“No! I’m done.” Dean spat, his voice filled with venom.

_ Tell him _ !

“You’re not breaking up with me?” Castiel asked, his voice warbling. 

Dean leveled him with a look that felt like daggers in Castiel’s already broken heart. “I am.” He said with a finality that stung Cas’s eyes with tears. “We’re done.” 

_ Tell him! Make him pay! Tell him you’re dying!  _

“No! Dean, wait!” Castiel cried out, but Dean wasn't’ listening. He stormed out of the room and down the stairs. Castiel chased after him, knowing very well he’d feel the consequences later. 

Charlie was doing dishes when her two best friends stormed past her. Dean practically flew out of the front door, slamming it in Castiel’s face. 

Cas dropped to the floor with a body wracking sob. Charlie rushed to his side and he could feel the soapy water from her hands soaking through his shirt. “He left me.” Castiel whimpered. Charlie pulled his head into her lap and petted his hair. He could hear her speaking to him but he couldn’t make out her words over the pounding of his heart. 

_ You’re dying, darling _ , his mother informed him sweetly. 

“No, I’m not!” Castiel cried out, he wasn’t sure if he had said it outloud or not. Charlie looked panicked, she was fussing over him, trying to take his pulse. She rushed to the phone and was speaking in alarm but he still couldn’t make out her words. 

_ Of course you’re dying, Casi, dear, what do you have to live for?  _ His mother asked coyly. 

Castiel was struggling to maintain consciousness, but his body was going numb. Was this that heart attack doctors were always telling him he was going to have?

He took one more deep breath and let the darkness take over him. 

_ See you soon, sweetheart.  _

 

***

 

Dean could not believe Castiel. He seemed to have no compassion for Sam or Dean’s situation in general. He was self absorbed, always making excuses about leaving Dean alone or staying home and Dean was sick of it. He guessed that’s what he got for dating a spoiled rich kid. A spoiled rich  _ boy _ , no less. 

He was angry. Oh god, he was so angry. But, he was sad too. He had thought Castiel was better than that. He thought Cas was someone he could have spent his whole life with. Apparently, Dean was wrong more often than not. He was in no shape to go see Sam anymore, he didn’t want to bring all of that baggage with him. He hitchhiked back to his dad’s apartment hoping a beating wasn’t waiting for him, but not caring if there was at the same time. He felt a little ashamed of how he had treated Castiel earlier but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He had deserved it . . . right? 

When he finally got back to the apartment John was sitting on the couch watching TV and drinking a beer. “You were right,” Dean told him tonelessly, “I am worthless and disgusting.” 

John didn’t look up from his show, but he silently raised his drink in agreement. Dean walked past him back into his room. He crawled into the bed and cried himself to sleep. The first time he had slept alone in over a month. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave me your comments and thoughts below! I love you all!


	11. Castiel's Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Thanksgiving fiasco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it's been a long time since I posted. This story will get finished. I promise. I have it all planned out. If I'm being honest I've just been going through kind of a rough time and I find it hard to do things I used to enjoy. Writing does help and I'll try to update consistently and maybe we'll be finished before the new year. I'll try to post next week, Thank you all who are still with me and thanks for reading. I know this chapter is rough but hopefully it will get better as we go.   
> \- Blue

Charlie was suffocating. She was being held deep underwater and her hair grew around her and enveloped her, surrounding her naked form. She was dying, she’d be dead soon. She was being dragged deeper into the depths by some unknown monster. She needed air so badly she felt her lungs may explode. She struggled to take one last breathe before death took its victory over her and -- Charlie sat straight up in bed gasping from her nightmare and covered in cold sweat. Her sleep was rarely undisturbed by nightmares though they were rarely so mundane as this one. 

Usually her nightmares were reflections of her life. Groping hands coming after her, her step father entering her dry and unannounced, her body reacting to him in ways she wished it wouldn’t. Those were the nights where she would lie awake sobbing silently, wishing her mother were there. That she would wake up. 

 

When Charlie was 12 she had gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover and had called her mom to pick her up early. Her mom never made it there. She was in a car accident on the way there and was left brain dead. Now she laid in a hospital bed kept alive by a bunch of tubes and machines. She couldn’t save Charlie. Nothing could. 

 

Charlie rose from her bed. A look at the alarm clock told her it was 5 am. She could have gone back to sleep for two more hours before school but she was scared of more nightmares. 

She opened her blinds to let the first rays of morning sun pour into her room. Life sucked. And if her friends were any indication life sucked for everyone in a variety of ways and there was never anything you could do about it. 

 

Dean was back living with his father. He'd refused to say anything to Charlie, but she knew John was beating him again. He'd come to school Monday hardly able to sit without wincing and a fresh black eye. He’d texted Charlie before school to help him conceal it with make up, but he staunchly insisted he had accidently rammed his head against some part while fixing the impala. He’d tried very, very hard to avoid the topic of Castiel. 

 

Of course, he hadn’t seen Castiel. After their dramatic break up Castiel had been hit with a major attack. Charlie had called an ambulance and they'd run all sorts of tests on Cas, speaking about brain tumors and heart attacks and arithmea. Charlie had been sitting by his bedside late Thanksgiving evening when his heart stopped. 

 

He was lying on the bed, delirious, talking to someone who wasn't there and thrashing about. Charlie held his hand and tried to speak soothingly to him but it was as if she wasn't there. Suddenly the steady, yet quick beating of the heart monitor got faster and faster until it was one long beep and Castiel was still. She rushed to the door and called for a nurse. “Cas? Castiel, wake up?” She cried, tugging on his harm. Doctors rushed in and pushed her out of the way. A friendly nurse named Pam escorted her out in the hall. They closed the blinds, but she could hear their attempts to resuscitate him. “Clear!” 

Once. Twice. A third time. Didn't they call it on the third time? Was he dying? Was he dead? 

 

They didn't do it a fourth time, Charlie was panicking. The nurse held her back as she tried to run to Castiel’s side. The doctors filtered out of the room. “He’s alive for now.” One of the doctors said. 

 

“For now?! What does that mean?” She asked. 

 

“It means he might need a new heart” the doctor replied gruffly. 

 

“Why can’t he have one?” Charlie demanded. 

 

The doctor sighed, “I’d love to give him one, but anorexia is a serious mental disorder and it's against the board’s policy to give organs to those patients”

 

After that there'd been a lot of argument between her and the doctors. It was all for nothing because the tests came back negative. He could keep his heart. . . for now. She’d stayed with him all weekend but he'd had to stay out of school a few days. Today was Thursday and would be Castiel’s first day back. All week she could tell Dean was wondering where his ex-boyfriend was, but he was too proud to ask and Charlie didn't bring it up for fear she’d give away Cas’s secret. 

 

She had to admit she was a little apprehensive about going to school. She was afraid they wouldn't want to be near each other and she’d have to split her time. What a gigantic mess those two boys caused. 

 

***

 

Charlie was already sitting in their spot in the library when Castiel hobbled into school.  He wasn't sure where Dean was, or even if he should still sit in their usual place lest it become incredibly awkward. Charlie caught his eye and waved him over. That was it, now he had no choice but to go.  He made his way over slowly. His insides still felt like they were on fire from all of the medication they’d pumped in him over the past few days. 

 

“Hey,” Charlie said hollowly, Castiel noticed dark circles rimming her eyes like she hadn’t slept all week. 

 

Maybe she hadn't.  

 

“Hey,” Cas replied equally as stiff. He tried a smile but he had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. God, he hurt. It was like every beat of his heart sent a stabbing pain through his ribs. 

 

“You died last week.” She told him evenly. 

 

“I died last week.” Castiel agreed. He thought back to thanksgiving. Of throwing himself out of his bed in attempt to catch Dean and lying on the ground in agony as his lover slammed the door and left.  

 

That pain was bad. That was worse than dying. And he knew, he had died later that night. And now he might need a new heart. Dean broke the old one. 

 

“You have to tell him.” Charlie said firmly. 

 

“No.” replied Castiel without looking at her.

 

“You fucking died, Cas!” She hissed. “You were dead. 6 minutes -- you were dead!”

 

“Dean has enough on his plate without me, Charlie. Besides, he left me,” Cas stated angrily. 

 

“And what am I supposed to do of you actually die?” Charlie exclaimed. “Don't you think it'd tear him up knowing he helped kill you?” 

 

“Then I won't die.” Castiel replied simply.

 

Charlie rolled her eyes and looked ready to retort when Dean walked up. She clamped her mouth shut quickly and looked away from Castiel. 

 

“Hello. . .” Dean drawled awkwardly. 

 

Automatically, Cas scanned Dean for injuries. He seemed to be struggling to stand up straight and his right hand was bandaged up. Around his eye and peaking out under his collar and sleeves were bruises. Not the faded green ones that matched his eyes  so well, but violent shades of red and purple where he'd been beaten to a pulp. Castiel’s first instinct was to pull the other boy close to him and make the hurt go away. But he didn't. 

 

“Hey” Charlie smiled, her previous venom seeping out. 

Castiel stared down at his loafers. 

 

“So, where have you been, buddy?” Dean asked, looking pointedly at Castiel. 

Castiel looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.  _ Buddy? Are we suddenly drenched in societal norms of hetersexuality?  _ Dean blushed as though he could hear Castiel’s thoughts.

 

“Oh, I had to close up a business deal in Seattle for my father over the past week. He's out of country.” Castiel lied, easily. Charlie rolled her eyes. 

 

“Wow. That's impressive.” Dean shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. 

 

The bell rang and Charlie excused herself to go to class. Dean and Cas stared awkwardly at each other for a couple of seconds. Engineering was 1st. The class where they were partners. 

They spent the entire class speaking to each other as little as possible. When the bell finally excused them, Dean practically ran out of the room leaving Cas in his dust.  

 

*** 

 

Dean was in pain. His father appeared to be trying to make up for the month he lost by beating him bloody every chance he got. He was bloodied and bruised and broken and there was no Sam and no Cas to help put him back together.  

 

He was glad when he finally reached his art class. Sitting next to Castiel for an hour was almost too much to bear. He was trying to be civil for the sake of their friend group, but it was difficult. Just looking at the other boy dredged up his hurt feelings all over again. He should have known better than to date a rich pretty boy. He should’ve known he’d get his heart broken. He should’ve known. This was all Castiel’s fault. 

 

They had a choice project in art. He could draw whatever he wanted. He painted blindly, not really seeing his hand fly across the paper.  _ All Castiel’s fault.  _ He was enraged. He almost couldn’t keep from snapping the brush in his hand. He almost understood how his father felt when he hurt him. Dean felt out of control. He felt as though his insides might burst if he didn’t do something. . . If he didn’t destroy something. . . Instead, he painted.  _ All Castiel’s fault.  _

 


End file.
